Somedays, I want to grab the bipolar in my brain by the throat and throttle it for all it’s worth.
Yesterday, I woke up in a foul mood. For the most part, it had nothing to do with anyone or anything. It was Labour Day weather as I remember it-cold, windy and rainy, and I had a day of children to look forward to, and trust me, that thought didn’t fill me with glee.
I didn’t want to make cupcakes or playdoh. I didn’t want to play, color or run in the sheets of rain on the deck. I wanted to sit, pout and be foul.
I went up one side of myself and down the other. Why so upset? Why so cranky? There’s no reason to be-everything is pretty much as it should be, the kids cranky but no worse than any other day. I was tired, but not super tired. I found myself wanting to cry out of sheer frustration most of the day, for no apparent reason why.
It took til the end of the day, when I finally did have a nice little cry to realize that sometimes, people are just FOUL. That sometimes there really IS no reason for being in a snit, and that this is life.
I’ve spent so long fighting with myself to have reasons for what I feel that I’ve never stopped to contemplate that somedays a little rain and two squabbling children can be enough to make you want to play Uno all day long. I haven’t stopped to feel things like a normal woman in a long time, to just have the feelings I’m having.
How do you all do it? Is it as easy as just looking it square in the face, and moving on? I spent the entire day trying to ignore it and being less than fabulous to my family, when what I should have done was rent Beaches or The Notebook, had a good sob, and moved on. Because once I did that at bedtime, I was quite right. I suppose the valve needs to be let loose occasionally or something. (Note to self-buy girly movies for crying jags)
What pleases me is that this is a lot closer to the normal I once lived, long ago. To needing a good cry once in awhile, but being otherwise stable and normal-which I have been lately. I want to strangle bipolar for this because it’s skewed the context on me-I’m having to swim through pudding. I know what to do, but everything around me feels foreign and I’m having to adjust, and quick. But there’s something freeing about seeing myself again-seeing those feelings, seeing me, and beginning to understand that I DO have the power to control them, and that I DO deserve to control them, that my family deserves this control.
It’s heady, and scary, all at once.
Someone sent me a podcast, a bit loopy and chocolate Flake like, but it kept talking about the emotional blocks we put on ourselves, and how they need to be lifted before we can move on.
Quite right indeed. I think I’m moving one now.