Another year, another round

I forgot about this blog.  I really did.  I think it was a psychological way of avoiding the fact that I do indeed still have bipolar II.

I'm back to where I was last year, although hopefully a bit better.  I worked at a good job for a year, got married, came back to a city I call home, and have been getting immersed into my creative work.  At the same time, I also experienced the death of an unborn nephew, my mother's continual decline in health, a bad work situation, long-distance relationship strained by many factors, worsening physical health, and living in a place very strange to me culturally.  There were so many times where I didn't think I could make it and somehow I avoided landing in the hospital for a crisis.  The suicide hotline did get a phone call though and my loved ones were probably stressed out from it all.

For the past 10 months, I've been slowly entering a strange kind of depression.  It's a feeling of being overwhelmed, of wanting to scream "I don't have time to be depressed!", of being workaholic so that I don't feel, and then getting run down because I won't stop pushing.  I have no income and am therefore completely reliant on my husband.  Although I don't have an interest in shopping or expensive hobbies (I'm finally getting free dance classes), food is my greatest weakness and the area that I've been told to cut back on.  Health-wise, it's probably a good idea; stress-eating leads to far too much weight gain amongst other issues.  It's a vicious cycle though because the less I feel like I'm pulling my weight, the more despondent I get and the more useless I feel.  I then take it out on my husband because he's not a very emotional person and is unlikely to make big shows of sympathy.

Worst of all, I haven't had a psychiatrist or therapist since late June.  I've had some meds but have been relying on the age-old trick of halving doses to extend my supply.  It looks like I can go back to full dose soon since I just got health insurance, but we will see.

The healthy thing to do would probably remind myself that my life is fairly good and stable, but the unhealthy part of me wants to curl up in a corner and never come out.  Which side will win out?