I don’t know why it’s so long since I posted. Partly I just forgot. Maybe I had nothing to say. Maybe I was feeling too well.
I was reading my posts from the start of the year. How did I find the strength to keep going? Life was so difficult. I felt so alone. In truth I don’t remember being so depressed. I know I was so low that it warranted time off work and a virtual admission to hospital. But I don’t remember having such a miserable time.
It’s a blessing that I forget. Maybe it is a survival mechanism. The minds simply bundles the horrors away to protect you. Maybe it is better that I don’t remember. But as I write this blog I have a sinking sensation in my gut. I haven’t forgotten completely. And I know it can come back.
I think I’ve become better at dealing with my mood swings with age. I’ve become better at noticing the triggers that herald a meltdown, better at taking care of myself, better at seeking help. I still get depressed but it’s not so severe and it doesn’t last as long. I don’t get highs quite as often but the same rules apply.
I try to take care of myself by getting enough sleep, meditating and getting enough exercise. Almost as important as this is keeping communications open. Contact with my wife and family, contact with my colleagues and contact with my spiritual friends. That is what keeps me sane or as close as I get to sanity anyway.
I guess the message I have today is obvious. I can only get so far on my own. I can get sleep and take my medication but without my wife and my psychiatrist, I will only get so far. I need the support of my friends to lift me from the depths of isolation.
No man is an island. It’s an old saying. Many learn the lesson at a young age. I was much older before I understood. Maybe I resisted. Perhaps my missed that class at school. Maybe I’m just not the brightest.
Bipolar disorder is my teacher. And I assure you, I’m listening now.