My body made it exceedingly clear yesterday that I’m still sick. I guess I can sort of thank it for shutting up the bipolar-related nuisances… but yeah, no. I won’t go into the details of how my body made its point about how sick I still could be, but it was um… vehement, and gross.
Okay well, it’s also fed the bipolar slightly; I find myself fixating mentally on the assorted grossness that my body inflicted upon me yesterday. I used to be quite good at drowning it out, but my brain has opted to instead try to force visual thoughts on me, and as I’m not a visual thinker, it’s not an easy thing in the slightest to wrassle down. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again — as soon as you think you’ve got a fix on controlling part of the bipolar brainfuck, it finds another way to try and screw you over.
Regardless, I am doing my best to soldier on. I’m still thinking it might have been wiser for me to stay home, but I can’t let my brain and body attempt to tag-team me into hiding in a corner! As many problems as I have with lapsing happily into avoidant behavior, I know it’s good for me to take stands against it as I may. Sure, simple avoidance is much healthier than the drugs and booze of yesteryear, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a way to live either. I simply have to think about my mother, and say to myself — do you really want to be that far off in your own bubble world? It’s a pretty easy answer — no, no I don’t. I want to engage with the world, I want to feel and do things. I acknowledge that I do have to coddle myself, but… I guess like most things with bipolar, it’s yet another balancing act, and me with no sense of balance and no skill for juggling.
As one of my friends once said though — you’ll make do with your own circumstances, even if you don’t think you’ll be able to. And that is what I should try to do, and will keep trying to do.