I was talking to my best friend this morning pre-caffiene; she was still up and desired my company for a specific reason. I’m not a huge fan of voice or video chatting, but I tend to make time for people if they ask it of me. The fatalist in me was especially happy to share in this, insomuch that it’s a big step towards the rest of her life, and it reaffirms my approach to life when the big things fall easily in place when they’re ‘supposed’ to.
We also made with general chit-chat, ’cause that’s what friends do. I was commenting that my current existence with bipolar is fraught with uncertainty. As I’ve said before, I cannot trust that my brain is looking out or me right now — I strongly suspect it’s waiting for me to let down my guard, and then blam – one shanked me. I was able to pinpoint that yeah, I’m feeling tired and worn out a bit, but I’ve still got enough spoons to get things in my life done. So is the down general depression, or general malaise? I don’t know, and I can’t ponder on it too extensively either. As said — my brain wants to shank me somewhere along the line, and that’s practically throwing open the door and inviting it in to do so.
Suffices to say, I wish I could reflect more on it. I wish I could trust my brain to chillax and let me get on with doing things. There’s a lot of not great with bipolar and other assorted invisible illnesses, but the not knowing what I can do day-to-day is definitely high on my list of vexations. I guess all I can really do is keep recording how I’m doing day to day (even if I feel sheepish that things are ‘good’ right now), and hope that forcing myself to communicate about me on the regular will enable me to make the most of my spoons day to day.
For now — back to le work grind.