Did I make you smile? If so, that’s great (you dirty minded people, I love you).
I am going to talk about the big D. And the big D stands for Depression. Yes…I am sorry I spoiled the fun, but that’s what depression is doing to me. Spoiling all the fun.
So, coming down from hypomania, I know that depression follows. It comes with hypersomnia, executive dysfunction, migraines, isolation. To help you imagine how it looks like, I am going to paint a picture of myself at the moment: on the couch, not enough energy to move more than a couple of meters. Baggy clothes (sometimes pyjamas I wore for the last couple of days), messy hair, plates on top of plates on the coffee table. Cups, mugs, pencils, sketching paper, lists, paint brushes. All the things I said I am going to do and then they end up in a big pile next to me. Reaching them seems like climbing Everest.
I think that it is obvious that I hate this state. I always say that I am going to be prepared for the crash. I sometimes think that the hypomanic me can sometimes make a lot of things and take care of the depressed me. It never happens, because those days of high energy seem so far away and I am so absorbed in this slow, bleak mess.
I know it’s going to pass, at the same time I can’t help it and feel it in my bones. The lack of vitality, the desaturated colours around me, the cold light coming through the window.
It’s going to get better. The luscious colours are going to come back once the depression goggles are off. Until then, maybe I can paint them…
theproblemwithart 