So it’s been six months. Six months since I last posted, where I shared how low I was feeling, the post of which is here; https://thebipolarwriter.blog/2019/01/18/the-dark-days/
I was overwhelmed by everybody’s response. I endeavored to read and respond to all and I found great comfort from everyone’s messages. Thank you all <3
The best six months have been…well, a series of highs and lows. I’ll document a few of them now;
- I returned to work around mid-to-end February which terrified me but was a necessary step all the same. I was pleasantly surprised by my colleagues’ reactions to my return. Several of them knew why I’d been absent and their kindness was much appreciated. It gives me hope for a future where mental health conditions are fully empathised with. As the world turns, more and more people are discovering their own relations or friends are suffering too and so grows the awareness. It’s slow but it’s happening.
- I picked up my driving lessons. Back in January, this was another source of anguish for me. Having failed twice as a teenager and then put off for another decade, I was more than a little reluctant to get back behind the wheel. Driving makes me nervous, namely due to the lack of control I have of others on the road and their occasional less-than-appropriate habits while driving. They WORRY me. But losing hours of my life on buses wasn’t helping anyone so I persevered and, in May, I finally passed. I spent the following week lost in emotions wavering from relief to panic to elation to worry.
- I got back into my writing slooooowly. Writing was something I really struggled with in January. Instead I turned to the Sims 4. I made Sims of my characters, played out their lives and slowly, ever so slowly, my creativity began to come back to me. I made notes for scene ideas as I played and, while it took me an age to actually write something, I felt progress was being made. It gave me hope.
- My OCD didn’t go anywhere. All the while these things were happening, the OCD was there, ready to rain on my parade at any opportunity it got, and it’s still with me now. Some days (most days) I believe it’ll never leave me. Some days, the advice I received from therapists and doctors cannot be heard over the shouting in my own head. And yet, some days, I am louder still.
- A sense of paranoia has started to creep up on me lately. It’s always been there, a dormant niggling thought, but now it’s beginning to find its voice and it’s a little terrifying. If I told you here, or even voiced out loud, what I ‘believe’, I would sound…well…you can probably guess. And yet these thoughts, these irrational thoughts still exist. Even though I’m aware of their irrationality. How is this paradox possible?
- My sense of responsibility has exploded as well. Some days I feel personally responsible for the entire world’s feelings. It has made me most reluctant to blog in case I upset someone, to the point where I practically censor myself into silence. It is, I fear, another OCD thing but the days come where I struggle to spot the blurred line between an OCD fear and a genuine fear and the pool of people to ask is very small.
I don’t know what the next six months will hold. Probably much of the same; some good days, some bad days. I only hope the good will outnumber the bad significantly enough to drown out their quality. With me it seems it only takes one bad day to eradicate twenty good days and where’s the sense in that?
Thank you all for your time. I am, as always, so grateful to anyone who reads anything I write. (If I am brave enough to publish it!)