How to Fight the Disease.

Right now, I feel it coursing through me, making my head ache, my shoulders clench, my mind lose its ability to sort and analyze. So I don't know how to fight it. I told Josh, told Bruce. I always try to tell. Sometimes, that's all the fight I have in me.

I'm paying attention to color. I put Oliver in the bath. I took half a Xanax. I ate a meal. I'm writing. I guess I am doing small things to fight the disease.

Maybe I'll take Tylenol, see if that will help with my head and muscles. Call Mom--talk about what's making me anxious. We didn't talk yesterday. I can read. I see more light outside though it's white rather than yellow. I need to see my friend--talk, laugh. That almost always helps.

I haven't outlined a battle plan here, but I've gathered some ideas. That may be all I ever have.

My Professional Identity.

Why should I write about this? That persona is gone, or it will be. I guess I may use it a little in some situations. I may miss it a little. In some ways, that was my major identity. Bruce saw the real girl. My boss suspected.

My work identity...she dressed well and with personality. She showed off my favorite colors. She ended up having a cute, fairly personal office after a couple of years. She expected to stay long-term. She in't accept excuses or criticism she disagreed with (these crumbled toward the end). She wanted to be left alone with a pile of work. She emphasized and demonstrated free writing. She walked with long strides. She didn't her age matter. She believed in her talent and in her practice. She wanted new experiences, new classes to keep her awake and alert. She hid her sickness and her darkness well. She came back too soon and stay too long. She rode highs productively. She hardly exists anymore.

Okay, I think I can recycle a good bit of this...be bold, creative, dedicated.

Maybe I still have more than I think.

The Soul as Water.

I read this somewhere, and it made me curious. What is water, and how is it like a soul? First, I have trouble differeniating among mind, heart, and soul, so perhaps any of these terms would fit. Don't expect this to be a perfect metaphor.

• Water moves to freer spaces. The soul shuns confinement an can rush to the wild--for good or ill.
• Water is essential to life. We need our souls also. They make up the majority of what we really are, even deeper than what we may think or feel. And we need soul from others--most often in some form of art (music, literature, theatre, and such) and some extraordinary relationships. We need to share ourselves that way too. Expression. 
• Water makes an impression on land, rocks, glass--but over time. We need persistence and patience. The soul is powerful but can be destructive if we expect it to act too quickly. Some pieces of glass in my life are still sharp-edged. Others are cloudy and soft, ready to go in a jar or a painted dish.

That's my attempt. Can you think of more ways a soul is like water?

Wishes I've Not Made Yet.

It's okay to wish, to wish something will come and to wish something away. Wishes can be huge or can seem insignificant. So I'm wondering what wishes I've hesitated to make, maybe because I'm ashamed or scared or because they seem to selfish. Here are some that crept out of the dark when I let them.

• I wish to feel always useful or worthwhile, even if I end up being disabled.
• I wish to have pretty handwriting more easily. It's gotten difficult, and I sometimes don't recognize my own words. This may relate to medication or a particular mood cycle; I'll try to track it.
• I wish for survival this summer.
• I wish for pages that can handle markers and fountain pens. 
• I kind of wish I knew if I will end up in a hospital.
• I kind of wish we'd known all this earlier.
• I wish I could go swim in a deep lake.
• I wish I were a stronger reader.
• I wish I were better at tracking moods. 
• I wish my doctor were more available.
• I wish I could spend time with an expert on bipolar disorder.
• I wish I took learning about the disorder more seriously at least some of the time.

What wishes are waiting? Are they really so terrible or silly?

Reduce Chaos: Organization Questions

I've heard and read that reducing chaos is essential to stability for people with bipolar. As a fairly messy person with a deep connection to objects, I really have to think about this in terms of my space. One of my mantras is Reduce chaos; create beauty. Here are some questions I try to ask myself when I try to reduce chaos in my physical space:

• What is this? It seems simple, but sometimes, I haven't been paying enough attention to see what has crept into my space and taken up permanent residence without my really knowing it.
• Do I need it? Why? When?
• Do I want this?
• Is it useful and beautiful (from William Morris)?
• Is it at least useful or beautiful?
• Could I sell this?
• Could I give it away?
• Would soeone else use this more?
• Would someone else enjoy this more?
• Was this a gift?
• Am I keeping it out of guilt?
• Am I keeping it out of laziness?
• Should I throw this away?
• What would Mom say about it?
• Where can this belong?
• Is this space accessible?
• Is this space in the way?
• Will I remember where I put this?
• Do I have to buy or find other parts to use this?
• If I moved, would I bring this?
• How does this reflect my dreams or my daily life?

I imagine I could use these questions metaphorically too and try to clean up my psychic or mental space.

Affirmations for Stability.

Brief insights and images can be powerful for me. I include a few inside the cover of my journal, where I'm likely to see them every day. But I also decided to make a list of such affirmations, sentences that encompass what I need to believe and remember in order to remain stable. Even if I don't believe them now or every day, pondering them can help to reset my mind. Here are some of these affirmations:

• I am safe.
• I have joys to look forward to.
• I am deeply and wildly loved.
• I have earned self-confidence.
• It's okay for me to love myself.
• Indulgences are important.
• I embrace joy rather than guilt.
• Shame has no hold on me.
• A little bit of anything good adds up.
• Reading calms and fulfills me.
• I am a talented and capable writer.
• My writing matters to other people.
• I am capable of bringing others joy.
• Someone needs what I write.
• My beauty is not dependent on my weight.
• Feeling beautiful is okay.
• My intelligence and talent are not delusions or illusions.
• I distribute my limited energies well.
• Forgiveness surrounds me.
• I love my life.

I wonder what your most important affirmations are.

Love Who You Are.

I adore Papaya! Art, especially the spiral notebooks with their gorgeous printed pages. I've been writing in a rosy Papaya! journal/notebook that my mom gave me for Christmas. Some of the pages have banners that say, "Love Who You Are." This is how I reacted.

Do I love who I am? I could probably do a prompt on this, but it's also something I can continually revisit. For some reason, when I first discovered Papaya!, that line, Love who you are,  had such an impact on me. With everything I've read, experienced, and believed, this still seemed revolutionary. What does it mean? What could it mean?

• Like yourself, myself, and admire myself in specific ways.
• Nurture beginnings. Be my own mentor. 
• Be gentle with myself. Allow mistakes.
• Be careful with myself--allow for rest and recovery for illness, costly bravery, difficult decisions, and social overload.
• Cherish strange and excessive tastes as long as they are healthy.
• Move freely and fully in my body. Get strong. Get fit. Believe my body to be capable if not beautiful.
• Let others help me or take care of me. Ask.
• Next time, go ahead and buy the flowers.
• Take pride in my space. Work toward clarity. Make the space recognizable as mine. 
• Collect kisses.
• Dissect shame. Learn from it. Discard it.
• Celebrate even small accomplishments--finishing a book, not missing med doses, encouraging someone.