Blogging has been difficult for me this year. Within six months I’ve lost two close friends. Ulla (Blahpolar) died in September 2016, and Johnna (Painkills2 from All Things Chronic) earlier this year. Johnna played a significant part in supporting me through my grief over Ulla’s passing.
Johnna and Ulla were active and involved blogger.s Their avatars were everywhere. Their part in my life has made me a better person. And now they’re gone. And as life evolves and changes, it seems the ‘old crowd’ has scattered to the wind. I open up WordPress and feel the impact of those departed – the ones that faded quietly away never to return, the friends who kindly bid farewell as they moved on with life. And then the dead. Nothing is the same anymore and the bloggosphere feels so foreign and empty. I don’t adapt well to change. And I form attachments very quickly. While I have since made wonder new friends and know there are plenty of new friends to be made, loss is still so fresh that right now, I’m not sure what direction I will take with my blog.
Not to mention I can barely keep up with following everybody else. I feel so guilty. That I’m not present, reading and interacting like I used to. Life doesn’t leave me with too much spare time. There’s work, which is a mammoth undertaking, exhausting keeping up and avoiding mistakes because of my poor memory. Since my L5 lumbar spinal surgery, its difficult after a full day of sitting at work, to come home and sit and blog. I’m not a laptop-lying-down kinda person. And then there’s my bipolar personal management plan I try so hard to keep to – routine, vigilant for triggers and combating them, lots of sleep etc. Its hard work trying to be healthy.
Stay, go, limit interaction, change the purpose of my blog. I’m not sure. But when I figure things out, you’ll be the first ones to know. In the meantime, know my friends, I love you all and will do the best I can for now.
My previous post [here] about how I sometimes feel like a monster, was an attempt to try to change my own perception of myself. Its part of my skill set. Logically I realise what I feel isn’t necessarily true, so I try to look at things from another angle, and in writing that, hopefully I process that logic and transform it into an emotional reality. And in posting it, maybe change someone else’s perception of themselves.
At the time I wrote it, I did feel like a monster. I still do a bit. My plan is a work in progress. Thank you for all your affirming comments. I have read them and re-read them and I want you to know they are making a difference in my outlook during this extended depressed episode.
Painkills2 shared a song which is so amazing I just had to share it. It shows me I try too hard to be what others want to see and reaffirms the original intent with my ‘monster’ post – that I’m no monster, just another extraordinary human being with faults and beautiful attributes. Some things I can’t change. But despite that, I like the me I am growing into. I don’t have to try so hard. All I need is to get up and try to like the best of me.
Wait a second,
Why should you care, what they think of you
When you’re all alone, by yourself
Do you like you? Do you like you?
– Colbie Caillat
And maybe being brave and accepting yourself …. can be fun….
I’m giving birth to mania. I can feel it simmering beneath the surface. The key lies in the internal mind chatter. More and more chatter squirreling like mice in the attic of my brain. I can’t think straight for all the talking to myself. My lips move and perhaps, unaware, I whisper a few words of the dialogue between myself and I. You’ll catch me in an absorbed moment rolling my eyes or shaking my head; animated, some would think inebriated, deeply entwined in my own personal conversation and consternation of a slightly hypomanic mind.
Thoughts rolling thick and fast, I turn in one spot because I’m pulled this way and that between one suggestion and another, one thought, a new idea, a reminder, an alternative, questions and wonderings all in the space of one second. Or I can’t sit still, bouncing from room to room, forgetting then remembering, thoughts scrambled and unruly – don’t forget to fax the medical aid a copy of your text before the prescription then send …… a jumble of nonsense *rolls eyes, shakes head*
On and on it goes until I have to yelling out STOP! For the love of god just stop! Go have a cigarette, clear your mind, figure out a plan.
*has another cigarette ‘cos contemplating important universal stuff*
*has an idea*
*goes to bed at 2am with craft glue stuck in her hair* ……I know! WTF!…. *rolls eyes, shakes head*
Change is a strange creature in the life of a rapid cycling bipolar. Tuesday morning I set a date for my suicide, but I had the courage to change my mind, and here I am two days later with a hypomanic-induced spring in my step. Change is consistent. Change is reliable. And when it comes, it changes everything.
even though this year’s begun, I don’t know where to start
my hearts been stretched and broken like a thousand bits of glass
yet another dawn, another day, and still there’s more to follow
this new year’s turning out to be like yesterday’s tomorrows
where promise dims a few hours in, hope and light grow dark
what of my tireless labour? Life just bellows out a laugh
so let it stop before it starts, end the new beginnings now
I’m addicted to familiar, I don’t do change that well