Sometimes I experience a kind of mental disengagement. This correlates
with my bipolar depression. My depression takes different forms, sometimes
a proneness to irritability, sometimes a slowed-down mind, sometimes an
increased openness to despair or giving up, sometimes fatigue.
All of these either now or in the past have taken on blatant, extreme
forms. For instance, in an extreme mental disengagement spell, I can't
focus the best, can't work on things. My eyes might go somewhat blank,
and I might find it difficult to pursue lines of thought or to recall
words.
If my disengaging depression is mild enough, I don't sense it as being
something that should not be. A strong depression is obviously a problem,
something to fight and not something to trust or build your life around.
Instead, you want to separate yourself from it and what it tells you, and
get back to normal. Fortunately, having bipolar disorder means my
depression spells go away more or less on their own. I think it would be
harder for someone with clinical depression that had no mood cycling. But
for me, I can write off strong depression
as "not me" and then wait it out so I can be in the mood that reflects
my real values, something euthymic, or less depressed, or whatever.
But a mild depression can trick me sometimes, and make me feel like
I'm experiencing normal -- a new normal. As I grow, I experience different
flavors of depression, some of them for the first time. I am uncorking
the mellow wines of older age, perhaps? Maybe I like these mild
depressions? There's something seductive about a sufficiently mild
depression.
(In a disengaged depression, I may feel like nothing matters, because
I can't engage with reality. But it isn't really true that nothing
matters, it's just my mood. Or I may feel like I'm not interested
in working to engage with reality. I can choose whether to identify
with the disengagement or lack of desire to work, or to reject them. But
in the moment, it's telling me that I'm a certain way, and external
reality is a certain way, and what it tells me covers my mind.)
Feeling bad doesn't bother me -- at least, it doesn't seem like a
real threat to my ability to do what matters. But being slowed-down
-- mellowed out -- with a relatively positive hedonic "flavor" is
pretty dangerous, exactly because it doesn't feel dangerous. The
danger is that I get caught in a habit of being disengaged. My
mind can't do heavy lifting, or see things sharply and clearly
in these mild depressions. So, I am less able to do what I need
to do or even to witness the truth. I can go with the flow of
my culture, but I have lost my purpose. I am indexed
to the flow around me, and I no longer am indexed to God. I am
no longer myself, I cease to exist on some level, and that's actually
not a good thing.
My different moods are like being plunged underwater (or hypomania
is like some kind of opposite equivalent, like being stuck in the
sea of air, flying 10,000 feet above the ground). So I don't
expect to be able to do too much to control them, since they are
what they are and have their power. But I still fight them, and maybe
if I didn't, I would stay in them longer. And maybe milder moods
are more within my power to fight effectively. At the very least,
even if moods like this are persistent until they "decide" to leave,
I can learn to identify when I am drifting, when I am disengaged
or unable to engage, and see this psychological state as being
other than me, instead of attaching to it, as I sometimes
automatically do. Hopefully then I can get out of that state
as soon as possible.
--
How does rest play into this? Disengagement and rest may necessarily
correlate.
Most people go on vacation without worrying about whether
they will choose to go back to work at the end of it. But imagine if
when you went on vacation (maybe to a beach resort in another country),
you were concerned that you might not be able to tear yourself away from
it to get on the plane to go home. If you stayed there, you would lose
your job. Maybe in that case, vacation would sound like a bad idea.
Maybe with my life, some rest is relatively safe, and
some of it is dangerous. If rest is something that will reliably
lead back to work, then that's relatively safe. But rest that takes on a
life of its own, and cuts me off from doing what I need to do, is
dangerous.