I am having a way down day. I’m not sad. I’m fine. There’s nothing really to be upset about. I just woke up like this. I have learned to be nice to myself on days like today.

I used to really try hard to keep moving. I still get nervous that it’ll last for more than this day, or this week, or this month… it happens. Before I knew enough, I used to put myself on schedules. I can’t believe I showed up so often. It’s crazy to think that in a funk like this I would make myself go to a place to be around people to fake my way through it for this day. And sometimes I did that for weeks, and sometimes months.

And on the days when I just couldn’t stand, I would sit in a pile of my own self disdain, talking to me about how terrible I am. Telling myself that it’s my fault that I feel this way, and I probably deserve it. Or that if I were a stronger person I’d be able to make it to the sink to fill up this glass of water, but I am weak and there is no reason for me to be here. It’s not logical, I can see that. It’s not very nice either to jump from dehydration to worthy of death. I get that too.

But even now, I can’t fully explain it. I’m aware of it. I can see it more clearly now, and from this angle it’s not as painful. I’m just tired. Tired like stuck. Tired like my arms are weighted down. Tired like I could talk myself out of anything right now… because I’m not sure what matters today. But it definitely isn’t me.

I mentioned before I’m an empathetic, manic depressive. I added the empathy because it exists in every interaction and sometimes that’s what takes me down - someone else’s pain. I know more now than I used to, and this happens less and less. But I often have to remind myself that what I feel doesn’t belong to me, and that has been very helpful to finally know.

That’s not what’s happening today though. I have been on a good run of manic for a while. I’ve really been enjoying it. I started this website in my run of manic, and today I can feel what I haven’t yet. It’s not fear, it’s just this misery cloud. Sure that what I do won’t matter, sure that no one needs me. Sure that I remain alone inside my head, where no one in their right mind would ever wander.

There’s no real reason for it, besides this chemical imbalancing act. That’s not true. Please hold while I argue with myself on paper and do not erase it. Come one, come all! Join me in the circus of my mind to see if there is a net under this highwire. Sometimes it’s there, and sometimes… I am just a different version of myself.

It’s an easy thing to hide, as I can’t see how it means a thing for me to be out there like this. I know that I just need to be tired today. I know that I probably shouldn’t have broken this seal. I should stay out of these pages on days like today, and only let you see the happier side of me. I try not to make people see me on these days. I probably shouldn’t make you see my thoughts either. I thought maybe this would make me feel better. It’s not working.

There is still peace in the wind today. It’s just really hard to get all the way over to the window.

I sent in a submission to a mental health magazine a while ago. It was an assignment of solidarity, and while it feels like a lot to give this to you, I think it’s best that we’re all just on the same page. Because it’s okay not to be okay. If you don’t understand, I’m glad for you. But if you do, I want you to know that I am doing this too, that you are not alone, and that it’s okay to feel what you feel today. Today is almost over.

It’s not a poem, but it reads slower in stanza, and there was nothing that felt quick about this moment. [And yes, I realize it is not actually in stanza, you know who you are, but I like that sentence, and lines are boring.] It was hard to write, as it is hard to do many things on these days, and making myself do it was very important for what we’re doing here now. So feel free to say the words slow, they’ll be more accurate that way.

My water bottle
doesn’t go places with me,
it lives by my bed just in case
I can’t get out of it.

Some days I can’t write.
I can’t dance on those days either.
I can’t do any of the things
that should be, and sometimes are, very easy to do.

It’s impossible to go outside.
I’ve tried it, and I assure you,
it is quite impossible.

Everything is harder, except irrationality.
I am made of velcro,
and I hate the sound of standing up.

My thoughts are disoriented,
a constant murmuring,
a self-loathsome record repeating.

It’s okay.
I write down the worst murmurs,
and draw flowers around them.
That’s my battle plan,
so yeah, I’m okay.

I’ve been a smoker
for almost twenty years,
and on these days,
my addiction doesn’t get me up either.
It’s likely, I guess,
that this is all actually saving my life -
three days of depression
is one less pack ingested.
Bright side! 

Some days I fight.
I find a way to go out
into the blinding sunlight,
to feel the judgement
of every person I pass,
to know that every interaction
that I am part of
would be so much better
without me in it.

I watch myself
as if I’m hovering above -
unattached, disconnected,
and unable to find my true self’s response or reaction.

It’s okay.
I’ll be back soon, and really,
it’s not so bad from all the way up here.

Some days, I let myself sink into it.
I try to be nice to myself about it,
as we all should try to do.
And if today is one of those,
I hope my water bottle is full
so that I can just lean into it,
color some flowers,
and see if I quit smoking this time.

Just in case: If we know each other, and it bothers you that you just found out I am a smoker, then I should tell you, really, that I’m more of a quitter. I do that a lot. I’ve quit smoking more than anything else I’ve done in my life. So don’t worry. I’m good. Thanks for your concern.

Follow the artist!

Are you surprised we’re doing this today?

Music is very important. And I understand that this is the Avett Brothers, and they are talking about a girl, but you’d be surprised to know how many love songs translate really well to be love-yourself songs. Thanks to all those starry-eyed lyricists who didn’t realize that they were an advocate for a struggle we weren’t talking about yet. I’m glad we are now. Because “I don’t need to make this world see that I’m not crazy.” I’m very good at my crazy. It took a lot of practice. I’m even going to stand up for this one. Sway a little with me.