Being Bipolar isn't EASY

and the Art of Slowing it Down

Tag Archives: Depression

Time to talk

It’s still “Time to Talk” somewhere…

And so I further share many people are most comfortable talking to me personally and I find that extremely worthy/valuable. But isn’t it really most curious about societies comfort level. I find it FASCINATING in fact???

That shared, although most fortunate & grateful for my connections, I am often saddened that people – the majority, in fact – feel that they need to hide their trials & tribulations and I struggle with how “private”, a.k.a. kept on the DL (down-low) undercover, our intimate conversations are.

It motivates me frankly to be all the more open (which mind you is both alienating & I reiterate sadly alienates) to show that there is no shame in very vunerable. IMO it is often most meaningful!

In large part even though this (new & improved) feed of mine is still in the beginning stages, it has been ruminated over for years, I make an important mention today. You may read/ deliberate/ remember on your own and not respond w/ a comment or a like AND that is o-kay BUT I ask you to pls consider this: mental health to quote my cousin about a recent teenage suicide in her community “is clearly a multi-layered issue with no clear path to help….except communication”.

So I encourage you to help me, help us bust the Stigma. Reduce the isolation & shame and challenge you to communicate even if you feel uncomfortable.

*Note to reader: This was originally posted on Instagram with the (UK) hashtag #timetotalk. You can find me @jessicakaushik for smaller FUN stuff.

My therapist told me to


My therapist told me to. My therapist told me to write about “my depressed states”?!

And that, that’s a really hard charge because as I have told you, I don’t think that I have it! I didn’t think that I could do it! And then like most things flow; this article came across my path.

You should take a moment to look at it! It’s from Forbes & extremely educating. I read it & realized I am a walking talking high functioning depressed wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, screenwriter, blogger, yoga teacher?!

Now don’t get me wrong, in my long/short life (which is it today?) there’s a lot whole hell of a lot about myself, my life, my family, others that I have had to learn how to accept and turn a compassionate heart towards; you know the kind of things that one doesn’t want said at their wake but just thinking about how beautifully the painting of my life, my family’s life, looks above the fireplace makes me smile… smile on the inside. If you’re a perfectionist, I trust that you know what I mean.

If I am honest, as of late, when I am depressed I withdraw and I rearrange my calendar so that I don’t have to leave the house. I cancel lunch dates, play dates, skip yoga classes… being anti social furthers my depressed state. I neglect exercise, sleep longer than ‘normal’ and thus neglect my morning spiritual rituals. I find myself having too much liquid at lunch and/or at dinner – you know the kind that we don’t serve our kids and thus I gain weight! …gaining weight furthers my depressed state which affects my sex drive which affects my relationship with my husband which only furthers my depressed state… then I get negative, negative about everything.

And I’ve been doing that a lot lately! I haven’t hit rock bottom and jumped on the negative band wagon but if I am not careful, it’s just around the corner!

…don’t get me wrong, I am and am not DEPRESSED I survive because I toggle. I am grateful for this article teaching me about toggling… I am a toggler!

I bounce around between the magic moments. Gratefully I practice gratitude and can find many magic moments that make my life worth living but if I graphed it, it would be a pretty erratic graph. Sometimes, like many bipolars, I can spike several times in one week, but now that I am relatively stable or was fooling myself that I was before I visited with my therapist last week, I usually spike a few times a year.

Note to self: Don’t talk to your therapist about your Screenplay anymore! You didn’t need to know that you are a toggler! ;) … I can see my first meeting now: “Hello, My name is XXX & I am a toggler! I am here because I want to stop toggling!!!”

If that wasn’t enough, fully present & conscious I do things that I know that I don’t want to do, like drink coffee. Bear with me dear reader – it may at first sound like a feeble attempt to fill up this post, even I thought it was a little pathetic when I wrote it, BUT coffee is a BIG dehydrator and false stimulator that I wish that I had access to naturally. I notice when I am off coffee that things like a smile, a hug, yoga, coconut juice or kefir pick me up!

I can’t tell you how many times that I have been in the kitchen, habitually like a robot taking the coffee beans out of the pantry and the grinder out of the cupboard saying to myself: “You don’t really want to do this”… “No, I really want to do this”… “What’s the harm?”… all the while mindlessly hearing the pitter patter of the beans falling against the walls of the grinder?!

See that proves it. I am a toggler! You can only imagine if I toggle with something so small as my coffee drinking that I toggle with much bigger daemons in the closet.

…and here I want to close by saying “Pfew. That felt good! I am glad that I listened to my therapist!” But that would be in part a small lie. As I just found out that I toggle.

I think that this post is a good start to get me thinking about what a BIG role depression plays in my life. I know that I have only scratched the surface of the iceberg, I have much more to brew over – pun intended… Question is what am I going to do about it? There is only so much that Uncle Google can answer!

…I think that I’ll do something super superficial, but all that I am prepared to do now @ 2:44am MT, and vow to not make a pot of coffee today!

for five press – “I on” (D e press I on)


I want to tell you about depression [for five press – “I on”] and me… we have a funny relationship.

The long and short of it is that I won’t admit that I have it, depression that is, and I pride myself on hiding it so well that others never suspect that it plagues me. I am a fortunate one, which can get out of bed every morning and force myself to smile. (During my biggest challenges I have been known to regularly exercise, meditate and eat well; which, as the magazines report, helps a great deal…) It’s so ephemeral that I hardly understand how it manifests itself.

What I never understood about depression is that after I obsessed about the things that I longed for the most; specifically getting back together with my X, the obsession(s), became maggots on my heart and I erroneously blamed the innocent nameless faceless monsters, the ‘them’, that I write about throughout this blog.

My faith in the Universe kept me believing that I could fight, crack the code, win back Scum-lazy-ass-moron’s adoration and put an end to the proverbial elephants in my closet.

But my misplaced faith in a long-lost-love didn’t play a role in how it ended… rather my disease casted me in the largest bipolar role of my life.

I dressed in a dirty grey t-shirt (worn inside out and backwards) with a shabby-chic couture “west coast choppers” hoodie, a used purple bath towel as a skirt – tied it up with a brown belt, wore one bone white heel on the right foot with a black calf-skin slip on the other and marched into my doctor’s office half expecting scum-lazy-ass-moron to be there. (I was armed with four (4) small heart shaped earrings, from Barney’s CO-OP, and prepared to pierce belly buttons, as an initiation to my club of closest cohorts.)

Readers beware – I am confused too. As it wasn’t exactly then, but shortly thereafter, at my doctor’s office that I realized that Scum-lazy-ass-moron was never going to ride the white horse to my rescue. I had no knight in shining armor… just an acutely sensitive idiosyncratic and PSYCHOTIC disposition.

Part of me wishes that I took a selfie that fateful day… now I see, it was after all my Independence Day. The day that I finally let go of all that I had seen and relinquished a silly childhood dream.