Moderation is a concept I speak highly of, but am not that great at practicing myself. I do in some ways – I eat well, I don’t drink or smoke or do drugs anymore. But I find that my actions are not terribly moderate; I am either passive, or full blast. I know some of this is carry over from before I had my daughter; I’m fairly sure I have/had severe endometriosis, which left me with no energy and pretty much no quality of life. So whenever I did get a smidge of energy, I’d try to cram as much as I could into it. That means that maybe, just maybe, I could make it through doing the dishes without nearly fainting – rapture, neh? And it’s not like I was unfit by any standards; between the Air Force and my low weight, I was supposedly a pretty good example of healthy (har har).
Because of this, I tend to take my significantly improved energy levels and try to do a million things. I’ll dash through a task list, quick as you please, and not understand why I’m all antsy or floppy or whatever the side effect of the moment could be. I’ve not learned to do things a bit more slowly, and I should… if only for my mental health stakes. Which of course, makes it harder, because bipolar doesn’t exactly lend itself to the middle ground, does it? It’s definitely why I appreciate aiming for the middle ground, and am grateful that meds currently go a fair way towards giving me more than an inch of it to work with.
All in all, it’s back to applying cognitive behavioral therapy. I need to keep identifying these places where I throw off my balance irregardless of bipolar episodes, and endeavour to take a more measured approach to life. I have confidence I can keep doing it, but have to keep reminding myself – it will take time. And y’know, remind myself to breathe once in awhile, ha ha.
I’m going to get back to trying to not worry my pretty little head too much, and enjoy the rest of my Sunday. Here’s hoping that yours is pleasant as well.