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Sounds
Even the air seems to have a supercharged sound and feel as I breathe and feel the air touch my skin and body. On days like this the sounds of life are overwhelming. Every thing is magnified and seems aimed just at me. My grandson laughs and the sound seems to reverberate through my entire being and when others talk to me they seem to be shouting every word and emphasising everything with their body language. Concentration is shot to pieces as the slightest sound and movement around me disturbs me and I have to continually try to bring myself back on target. I just want to be in a cocoon of silence so that this hypersensitivity goes away. Vision seems to be sensitive to movement well, as any thing in my peripheral vision immediately grabs my attention. I find myself turning my head to see what is going on without being able to help myself. Why is it that these things happen? Why is it that they seem to signal a change of mood on some occasions but not others? I would love to make some sense out of it all. Which way am I going to go this time? Am I going to have the buzz and silliness of a hyper mood or sink again into the depths? Only a few days will tell. Now I know. The lethargy of a spell in the morass has arrived. I get out of bed and slowly make my way to the living room still in my dressing gown. No energy to do anything at all. It even seems an effort to breathe. I sit in the chair and think of all the things I should be doing today, but I can’t make myself get up and move. Even the effort to think seems insurmountable. Then as the day progresses the thoughts of my worthlessness start to surface again. The voice starts to remind me that I have been in the chair all day and nothing has been done. He tells me what a waste of space I am and how my family would be better off without me. Think of what they could do with my insurance money and how that would lessen the financial strain on them. Later my thoughts start to race and cover all the things I feel guilt and shame about and I wish desperately I could go back and erase it all or even myself. The voice chuckles and smells success in his project of whipping my self-esteem to pieces. What can I do except hang on, knowing that it won’t last forever, even if it seems that way. Follow the therapy my psychiatrist has shown me and look at my mood charts to see how I have really progressed over the years and try to bring rationality back to my thought processes. Slowly the light at the end of the tunnel seems to glow faintly and maybe I will be okay this time.
27 September 2005
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