When I Run Out of Money, I Run Out of Time

This was me – happy


It has been 4 1/2 years of madness. Something clicked, and I left my home and marriage of 25 years, and in a manic state, I changed every single thing I could.

At the time, I didn’t see it as mania. I thought I had a “little breakdown” because my first child left home. Now, I’m on day 2 of treatment for Bipolar-2. I’ve been on Xanax and antidepressants for the other 4 1/2 years. Nothing really “worked,” and every day has been an uphill climb.

I have been severely depressed for months now. I had to quit school, I can’t work, I don’t even leave my bed. Some days I cry. Some days I am completely apathetic. I find joy in nothing. I lie to my family about it. I do love my family and grandchildren. I just have no reason for existing, other than to not hurt my loved ones with my death.

No, I’m not suicidal. Yes, I wish things were different in my life. I wish I had a lifetime supply of money to live on, because I can’t draw anything to speak of from Social Security. I’m on a carousel, trying to enjoy the music and the ride, but knowing it will soon end. Only, I am not really enjoying the colors, sounds, and smiling faces around me. I fake a smile, but my eyes show honesty.

I hurt. My mind makes my body hurt. I sit here crying, typing, wondering why I ended up this way at 48 when all I ever did was try to make my husband and children happy and healthy.

My daddy had this evil disorder, too. Right before his suicide in 1987, he saw a counselor (once) who said he’d have to say, after one visit, that daddy likely had bipolar. Not only did the man make my childhood a nightmare, he left behind more a legacy of pain. He’s not really gone at all.

So, I type. Writing is my only outlet. The most effective method of expressing myself. It always has been – even as a child, an only child. God, a prevailing sense of loneliness has been my shadow for a very long time.

I live now until my savings runs out. When I run out of money, I run out of time.



10 thoughts on “When I Run Out of Money, I Run Out of Time

  1. I feel bizarre responding to you at this very moment, because I am probably as low as I have been in a long time myself – and I’m getting ready to write on my own blog about it.

    We appear to have much in common, and also appear to be in similar places in our life journeys. I hope the new medication begins to take effect and brings you back to a place of stability and clarity.

    I am in limbo at the moment myself, because I am on no treatment at all, my sick note from work is about to run out tomorrow, and I am in the midst of a crisis. But as you rightly pointed out, you love your family and your grandchildren, just as I love my son. For that reason, we both have to find a way out of this. And bugger the money.

    My thoughts are with you.
    Take care and be safe.

    1. Alice, my new photo-genius cyber friend, please don’t feel bizarre in writing to me. Please see my email address below. Feel free to write to me any time. K? I’m glad you are going to blog about your experience. We surely are of help to each other, in just knowing we don’t suffer alone. I realized a bit ago, while I broke into uncontrollable, mournful wails while in the shower, that I think I’m having withdrawal symptoms from the discontinued use of Prozac (I’m in the midst of a med change). Feels like I did when I stopped Cymbalta a few months ago. Please keep in touch. Share your crisis, and we’ll lighten each other’s burdens, perhaps. Loves, Lea.

  2. I know hope is hard to cling to during a depressive episode, but hold on to it. There are always answers, they can just be hard to hear over all the noise inside. Sometimes they aren’t the answers we want to hear, but as the Stones sang “you can’t always get what you want, but you can get what you need.” Don’t give up. *hug*

  3. Sweetie, you are beautiful! Welcome to bipolar world. It certainly is no picnic but with the right meds it can be okay again. Do you mind me asking what your new regimen is?

    One guideline that works for me when I’m low (like now) is to focus on accomplishing ONE THING each day. That one thing doesn’t need to be very impressive, either – it can be as simple as showering and getting dressed. We all know how hard that is some days. If doing that wears you out, put on comfy clothes and go back to bed. I keep a supply of audio books to listen to on days when I can’t get out of bed. It’s like having someone read me a story. Very soothing and much less agitating than television. Despitemyself is right that depressions are necessary swamplands of the soul (not my phrase) and we have to sort through their messages. You are still mourning the onset of this illness and what it has done to your life. Be gentle with yourself.

    Sometimes, when you take the pressure off yourself about all the things you “should” do, you find some energy to do some it after all. I haven’t been into the office in two days – the inevitable downslide after last week’s hypomania. Out of nowhere I found the energy and mental clarity to work on a conference paper for two hours. I’d have preferred four hours, but I’ll take two. I think that to survive this illness you have to be strong and graceful like a willow – bend with what comes. I think you have that in you.

    1. Lisa, your prose is poetry. Thank you, dear woman, for writing this comment. I finally showered at 4:30 p.m. 😉 Of course, the mournful wails emmanating from my throat in the shower scared ME! I hate withdrawal symptoms like this. I keep putting one foot in front of the other (or one word after another). This has got to cease. It just has to. Surely my once-hopeful, helpful, loving self will return. I miss her. She had a nice smile. Her skin wasn’t so ruddy, and she was a true optimist! I’m hanging on, Lisa. I am. XO to you.

      1. Please note that I didn’t say you *were* beautiful, I said you *are* beautiful! Some of those things, like skin going ruddy, just happen for some of us as we age (I’m a few years older than you, of Italian descent). I’ve let my hair go silver, too. I wear my age proudly, because I know there were times I didn’t want to be here any longer. You can, too. How is today?

  4. Keep writing. Keep owning your feelings and expressing them. This can only do you good. Others can help and understand some parts of your feelings. I will be thinking of you and sending you best wishes and prayers.

    1. Sweet Carol, I hope you and the boys are doing well and enjoying spring in my favorite town. Thank you for your comment and well wishes and prayers. You are a kind soul. I’ll keep writing. Please forgive the bluntness of my blogs. It’s purging and is a wonderful release.
      Love you ~

  5. I hear you too. I struggle through so many days like that, feeling everything then nothing. I’m so, so thankful that I’ve managed to hang on to my job (so far) although I wonder how long that will last at times.

    I wish I could make you feel a spark of joy today. 😦 I’ll just leave you a hug. *hugs you* I hope the sun peaks through.

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