Back to some semblance of normality today as the kids were back in school. I had a nice lunch with my mum, completed some mundane tasks – not to mention a quick catch up with the most compassionate and understanding friend ever (did I mention I’m feeling very over-emotional and dramatic today?) In a ‘how-well-did-I-pretend-to-be-sane-today’ kind of way it was a good day.
Routine always helps a lot in the sense that I have a reason to drag myself out of bed at a decent time in the morning – I must switch my brain on long enough to nag the kids into their school uniforms and maintain a steady flow of motherly nagging until their bellies are full of breakfast and their shoes are tied; there is some purpose to a morning. However; routine also seems to drag me down – I am a perfectly (yeah right!) well-functioning person between the hours of 7am – 9am but without the lure of family or friends for the day it is almost certain I will return home and sleep the day away… I always have the best of intentions not to; I have made lists, pacts, I even tried bribing myself with cake but nothing beats the lure of being totally oblivious and switching off from life all day (and I still eat the cake) – if I’m asleep I don’t need to think about the washing piling up the wall and the dishes growing science experiments, I am not aware of the two corn flakes that have been trodden into the carpet or the freshly spread toothpaste on my bathroom mirror… I can’t debate the worth of my life compared to that of a gnat, I don’t analyse the way my daughters, friends, snotty mother looked at me in the playground that morning or whether I might be a failure at everything I do. In other words I can hide from the things I tell myself I should be doing. I wake at 2.30pm groggy and ashamed of myself but I made it through another day and there are only a few more hours to be responsible and alert until I can fail at sleeping during the night just to do it all again tomorrow.
Is this a recurring trend of Bipolar disorder I am beginning to see? That it’s a fickle bastard, full of contradiction, the very things that aids also offers defeat – showing little in the way of a solution, a reprieve – no light at the end of this tunnel, we’re conserving energy! Yep, that would surely fit my experience of it so far.
There is something inherently odd about having a disease and not knowing everything about it; I suppose I must know more that I realise, having lived with it for so long, but I don’t know what I know – how very odd… to learn bit by bit what has been affecting you for the majority of your life and how it has been doing it. That knowledge seeps into every memory you have, tinges and poisons them all, both good and bad memories, skews all that you held to be true and leaves you holding nothing – your very foundation, your childhood (which was not a stable foundation anyway) has crumbled and turned to dust – do you subside? Or tear everything down and start to build again, perhaps on firmer ground this time… I know which would be the easier path.