I’d like to say I’m content. I’d like to say I feel good about everything. I’d like to say I’m happy with where my life is…
But I’m not content. I’m don’t feel good about everything. And I’m not truly happy. I wish I was happy. I wish I was something.
Tomorrow I find out if I pled my case well enough to come home. Or today since it’s after 1am. Part of me feels confident that she will say yes.
And….The normal part of my mind, the bipolar part, says she is going to say no.
I mean, why would she say yes? She knows me better than anyone. She can look into my eyes an see that I’m not fully being honest about how I’m doing.
I’m doing better, but it just feels like such an uphill battle. A fukkin struggle for every inch. I’m so tired of fighting. Fighting internally.
Most days I can’t wait to get out of work and lay in my bed. Just staring off. I’ve gotten into my new routine of getting out and exercising. Then shower an to bed. So I stepped it up a notch.
It would seem the only time I’m feeling a little better really is during exercise. The release of extra endorphins into my system charges it up and for the few hours after I’m in that content mode. Then as it wears off I start sliding back down to blahhh.
I mean, I guess blahhh is better than suicidal right?
I wonder how much exercise a person can do in a day? Would it be even crazier to exercise so much daily just to get the feelings?
The yoga routine I’m doing lasts 1 1/2 hours. Very exerting. It’s nice because it takes up so much time, by the time I’m done with a shower it doesn’t seem as bad to lay down.
Then building up the ambition to eat is next. I’m hungry. But just getting up is like I’m holding an extra 50lbs on my chest.