For y’all who are curious as to how I am doing. In a word, excellent:
I am feeling remarkably cheerful at the moment, better than I have in a long time. I’m making great progress in my psychotherapy and have had a few heart-to-heart talks with my dad, saying things that I ought to have said a long time ago. I’ve stopped brooding so much over problems I’ve had in the past and bad things that have happened to me. I’m learning more social skills. Michael and I are getting along well. And my head almost never hurts anymore, which is worth as much as all the aforementioned things put together. I don’t know if the Cleveland Clinic worked some kind of magic and cured me (which they said they could not do) or whether the headache just ran out of gas or what. I don’t even care, as long as it stays gone.
I don’t feel depressed at all anymore. I think it’s mostly the medication, especially the Depakote I started taking in June. I turned out I have a mild form of bipolar which had been undiagnosed for years. The result was that every week or two, for a few hours or a few days, I’d plunge into suicidal despair for no apparent reason (sometimes I’d just burst out screaming and crying in public, saying I wanted to die, unable to stop myself; it was very embarrassing), then come out of it just as inexplicably, and then go around talking too fast and being way too enthusiastic about random things and generally creeping people out. I had just tried to deal with it and figured it was depression, or maybe just part of my personality. But then I started taking the Depakote and, almost instantly, all that went away. I’m so glad. The mood swings were exhausting to me and my loved ones. Michael said he never knew what person I would be when he came home from work at night. I still take two anti-depressants though, cause depression has always been my primary problem. That’s why I say I have “depression/bipolar.”
I’ve been reading less, only about half as much as last year. This bothers me a bit, since there are so many good books out there that I want to finish. (Number of books on current to-read list: 697.) But I think it’s actually a sign of progress. The primary reason for my reading so much was to distract myself from severe pain, depression or personal problems. I’d leap frantically from book to book to book to book as if they were boulders above a terrible lethal rapids I was trying to cross. Now, I don’t read as much because I don’t need to distract myself anymore. I have fewer problems and have developed better coping skills.
I’ve also just started my college classes again, chasing after that ever-elusive degree, after giving my studies a break for almost a year due to my health problems. This makes Michael and my parents happy.