I’m back home after a long time away.
I had a great time, met cool people, saw some crazy shit. No complaints.
But as sometimes happens in these circumstances, plans fail, relationships end, and fears become real. The details aren’t worth your time, dear reader, as they barely matter. Suffice to say that I was left alone, broke, and uncertain about what happens next.
And when shit goes sideways, it’s common to get “the fears”.
Fear that:
- I have never experienced real love.
- that everything positive I have done is due to being bipolar.
- no matter what I do I will not make a positive impact.
- I lack the stamina to make myself who I need to be.
- the next thing/person/action I pour myself into will just turn to shit.
- I will never stop being hurt.
These fears are made worse by the uncertainty of being bipolar.What’s valid? What’s me and what’s my disease. How will I ever start over?
This, my fellow bipolaroids, is SHIT.
This ain’t to say that these fears aren’t real or valid. Or that they’re exclusive to people with a flavour of bipolar disorder.
They are valid. They’re not exclusive.
All that happened is that for a time I lost my centre.
I stopped focusing on my quality of life. And when things went sideways, I had nothing to fall back on.
But now I do.
I have my centre and my faith in myself is being restored.
I am back.
I have faith that:
- love comes in many forms, none are less valid than the other.
- my bipolarity may influence my positive experiences, but I’m still the one choosing to make them happen.
- positive impacts come from positive moves, so every time I make a positive move, that’s job done.
- stamina comes in waves and this has just been my psyche taking a breather. I’ll get there.
- the next thing/person/action I pour will be worth my time, just as others have in the past.
- I will never completely stop.