I’ve been feeling quite good for me the past few weeks. I’ve been unstable and disorganised but I’ve been trying to manage my time well and I’ve almost managed to do it several times. At other times I’ve failed miserably and that’s been really frustrating.
One of the tell tale signs that I’ve not been coping or managing my illness is the lack of baking that’s been finding its way into my freezer. I’ve made sausage rolls but because I made them I couldn’t bake bread.
I did a lot of shopping before Christmas, particularly of animal food, and now I have no real idea of what I’ve got in and what I haven’t. People will advise me to go to the cupboards and write things down but my brain can’t work like that when I’m feeling pressured. I can assemble the ingredients for a simple dish that I’ve made countless times but I can’t work out how to get the raw ingredients into the finished product. So going through the cupboards to write a shopping list is a bit beyond me right now.
It’s a sign of stress and it’s a form of dissociation which is both uncomfortable and unnerving. A few days ago I was stable within my shaky instability (which means I’m not very stable at all) and now I’m unstable again and it hurts.
This is a cycle that I go through countless times a year. This cycle may go on for hours or days or months but one thing is for sure, it will stop when it wants to regardless of what I do.
I both the time and space to be ill and to recover to a certain point. I am never well, I am just less ill at times. I’ve seen this coming for a few days but, like all the other times, I didn’t see what it was. Such is the artfulness of bipolar disorder. It’s a dodgy bastard.