Reviewing my week over another cup of my lifeblood…hoping this type of analysis does NOT fall into the negative category with overthinking
Am I the only one that thinks it was a long fuckin’ week? I don’t even know why. I’m sitting here thinking back on the last five days, having to really strain my brain to remember all the details (which I don’t even need to do because of how I journal obsessively) and I’m finding it so weird how time can warp itself into different lengths based on how we feel about what’s happening. Days loaded with the tortures of work and lots of stress tend to make time move glacially slow…although I guess what I’m saying is also that time moved quickly? As in, where did the week go? For realssss.
But before I get too far into how mind-boggling the fourth dimension is, I should get back to my point. Because I’m avoiding writing about what would really help me to write about. I struggled with that at the beginning of the week too, not talking to my therapist about why I was probably actually upset and instead quietly sulking and leaning into the anxiety pulling at my edges.
Where to begin?
Sunday was okay. I was off from work. We were productive at home and then had dinner with my family, which was nice aside from me feeling tired and yucky and off. I played it off as something physical (“I think I might be getting a cold”) and hid the sneaking suspicion I had that my mood issues were involved. Monday was good because I saw my therapist for the first time in over a week (yay!) even though I was anxioussss still and talked a lot less than I normally would’ve. I worked Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and overall, working those days didn’t make me want to die. So that was unexpectedly pleasant. I worked on an article for a psych website thing which was fun and made me feel good about myself. And by Tuesday night I was flyingggg. I was laying in bed with my boyfriend and we were just talking and I was cackling like a lunatic for no reason. Strange. Felt good, but in that too-good-to-feel kind of way. Therapy again on Wednesday was a lot better than it was on Monday, and it made me happy. And I hung out with my coworkers that night and it was awesome. Aaaaaand Thursday (yesterday) was good because I hung out with my mom and made shirts with the Cricut! But god damn the anxiety, like wtf.
Work today wasn’t terrible but I didn’t feel like myself. I wanted to be at home in a fetal position in bed. I was wearing too many layers of baggy clothing to make me feel some semblance of emotional safety and I had my headphones blasting metal music in my ears when I was on my breaks. I feel fairly normal now, but that’s because I’m taking great care not to think about working all weekend (aaaand I’ve ruined it typing that, wonderful haha).
Yeah, so veryy up and down this week. I’m not a fan. In fact, I’m pretty worried about it, in a pretty intense way. The ups and downs weren’t particularly drastic, but they were enough to trip me up and they were frequent. I’ve been STABLE for TEN WEEKS. Which is a longer period of symptom-free living than I’ve had in probably two whole years. I wrote a whole thing about mental stability (I actually never finished it which is why I didn’t post it haha) and it just felt so good to have shaken the confining chains of mental illness off of me for a little while. I dunno…maybe that’s actually why I’m freaking out right now. Things are going too well. God forbid I don’t self-sabotage, amiright? Ugh.
But in all seriousness, I have to be honest with myself. Or like, listen to myself. If I feel like something is approaching, if I feel like the Mood Disorder Locomotive is acomin’ my way (chuggachugga chuggachugga CRAZYYY), I need to be ready for it. Right? Really…someone tell me if that’s right or not.
I said to my therapist in our second session this week that I’m worried that I think myself into this nonsense (we’ve talked about that a few times before). And she didn’t seem like she thought that was the reality of the situation. I don’t think, but agh I can’t fully remember. And I don’t think that’s the reality. I don’t think mere thoughts can fuck me up the way bipolar disorder itself does. I don’t think mere thoughts are what make me bipolar. Yeah, positivity is important but it’s just a useful piece of assistive equipment, NOT the end-all-be-all answer.
I guess I’ll have to resign myself to the fact that I don’t know what’s right or wrong. I don’t even really KNOW what mood thing may (or may not) be heading my way. I’m not really one to go with the flow, but hey, gotta step outside of my comfort zone. Don’t have much choice, do I? One thing at a time, and until something does or doesn’t happen, I’m monitoring myself.
Anywayyy. It’s good, this reflecting-on-my-week thing.
Oh, that reminds me that I recently downloaded an app that reminds you to practice gratitude and prompts you to write down three good things that happened that day. I’ve been using it for two weeks or so. I’ve worked to have a grateful attitude a few times in my past, really focusing on the good when it would’ve been so easy to dwell on the bad. And I’ve realized there’s merit to the school of thought that says habitual gratitude is life-changing. It’s obviously not always so simple, like I said. It’s a help, not an absolute fix, but still.
On that note, I’m gonna go make dinner for my boyfriend and I, and then we’re gonna go for a drive and listen to music.