I’ve been stumbling around trying to find writing inspiration this morning, but there’s not been anything extraordinary standing out. What has shown itself over and over again is just how demonized mental illnesses like bipolar and schizophrenia are in some quarters. A lot of pieces popping up were out of the United States especially, and they either suggested that the mentally ill were some sort of burdensome problem, while others grudgingly admitted that there needed to be better mental health provision on the whole. And then there were that handful that were panic attacking about how many mothers were on psychiatric drugs and zergrush whhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. *snorts* Probably because, like me, they looked at their ability to cope and decided that they needed a little help to be a better parent? Mommy can’t exactly drink to drown out the intrusive thoughts anymore, after all.
I think what I might do is do a bit of (re)reading on bipolar//bipolar 2. I’m not sure what else I can find that might be informative and new to me, but there’s this little scritchle in the back of mind that tells me that doing a refresher/some research might be ideal before the next wave of depression finds its way back to me. Then another part of my brain tells me to not dwell on it and to enjoy the now (whatever that might be). Iunno, the longer time goes by that I cannot class as hypomanic or obviously depressed, the less I trust it and the harder it is to identify what’s what. I guess it doesn’t surprise me — after all, I know I can’t exactly trust my brain. Maybe some day I’ll be able to trust it around the bipolar, but that day definitely hasn’t come yet.
For now though, back to the meditative grind that is work.