The last week has been hard. The dark has been dark and the noise in my head has been loud. It has been a struggle and a few times I have been scared.
Every time I go through a downturn like this and come out the other side, my therapist asks what did I do that helped. That question is harder to answer than you might think.
What did I do?
I reached out to key people I knew would love and support me no matter what words I said.
It isn’t just any one thing. It is everything.
I put one foot in front of the other.
Catchy title, huh? It’s about all I have right now.
The last few days have been a blur of too many thoughts, extra medication, and too much sleep. I am so frustrated to be back here again. Fighting the same demons, the same evil thoughts. I am tired and the battle has just begun.
I am already tired of platitudes. I understand it is because people don’t know what to do or say, but telling me to be happy and it will change my thoughts, yeah no. Bipolar doesn’t work that way.
Bipolar chips away at your thought processes until there is either only one thought in your mind, or hundreds of thoughts going much too quickly to be anything constructive.
I can’t stand all the thoughts so I take an extra Xanax (it’s okay to do that, it is prescribed for as needed) and I become so tired and move so slow. My thoughts don’t really slow down, but I become too tired to try and sort them out.
And sometimes, that is what I need–that is enough.
I don’t even remember going to bed last night. But when I woke up for more cold medicine it was 9:30 and my hubby was sleeping in the recliner.
Where did he come from?
Last Thursday I started to get a cold. By Monday it was full blown yuck. It is interrupting my exercise (which I allow very few things to do), it is affecting my prayer life (it is hard to stay concentrated when you are coughing up a lung), it has already cost us a day of schooling–in our second week.
It’s just a pain in the neck.
But maybe yesterday’s 11 or so hours of sleep will help.
I did manage to do about 20 minutes of one of my workouts this morning before the coughing got too bad and I did join, via phone, a local prayer group.
That’s progress right?
I’ll take what I can get!!!
Do we ever grow up? Maybe in some ways. A friend and I were wondering today how we’ve become these women who are so happy to be able to pay bills. Whew. And how sad. So maybe on one hand we do grow up.
But on the other…not so much.
I have decided I do not like reading more than one book at a time. I don’t like the uneasy feeling that I will never get them done, that I will never get to check them as read in Goodreads. Honestly, it causes me a great deal of anxiety actually to have a bunch of books going at the same time. And yet, I do it anyway.
I have piles of books everywhere waiting to be read some more, to the end. I hate it. So why do I do it?
Ready for me to admit the ridiculous?
I have a bunch of books going because ladies I really like and admire on Facebook talk often about how many books they have in process. They are smart ladies. Smarter than they know. And I wanted to be like them. I wanted to feel smart.
So, I tried it. And did nothing but suck joy out of reading and cause great anxiety. I think I have to leave the smart behind and just go back to one book at a time.
That’s what makes sense to my brain.
I have been working very hard at my fitness and trying desperately to get my diet under control. And what do I get for it? More weight. That’s right, I gain.
My hubby never works out, but does work many hours at a physically demanding job. He eats like crap. He’s down 13 pounds.
Grrr. It makes me crazy. So crazy, I had to hide my scale in the basement. I do my measurements about once a month.
I am losing inches, though not where I would like to the most, so I know I am doing something right, but my waist is still huge and the number when I do peek at the scale, makes me sick.
Recently, I had someone say something very degrading to me about my weight. They didn’t mean it, it just happened. And I hate it.
I work so hard, but little of it shows. My arm muscles are growing, but there is still a ton of fat there. My cheek bones are nice, but the chin is still padded extra. I saw my collar bones peeking out today. As I looked at them, something dawned on me. I may still hate a great deal about my body, but at the same time, the measurements I take miss a lot. They don’t consider my collar bone. They don’t take into account my cheek bones or the calf muscles that I am very proud of.
So people, the tape measure, and the scale may try to diminish me, but they don’t tell the whole story…And I think I need to hang on to that.