Bipolar Disorder, Everyday Life, Uncategorized

Overbooked & Overwhelmed

writings in a planner
Photo by Bich Tran on

When I am depressed, I struggle to get out of bed.  I have to stand in front of the running hot shower and convince myself to get into the shower and once in, I have this whole elaborate self-talk of actually doing more than just standing there.  Doing anything seems to be a struggle.

When I am manic, I am like a child after a visit to grandma’s house who’s all hyped up on sugar and is wearing a cape and thinks that they are capable of flying.  I literally think that I can take on the world, and I am convinced that I am Wonder Woman.

Then there is the middle place where I am on neutral ground and I am this place that we’ll call, The Good Place.  I am not depressed nor am I manic.  I am “high functioning” Bi Polar, I am compliant with all my medication and living in moderation with all other parts of my life.  I am in a place where I experience some happiness and joy.  You will find a smile on my face on occassion, there’s some chuckling, and perhaps after one glass of wine while out with my friends, I will snort while laughing.  This, my fellow friends, is a good place to be.  But, there’s always a but, is a little bit of a dangerous place to be as well.  Not nearly as dangerous as being depressed nor being manic, but dangerous for different reasons.

When I am in this Good Place, I start making plans, I start doing things, I start getting into a rhythm, I start acting human and dare I utter the word, “normal”?  It’s slow at first, one thing here and a second thing there.  An obligation on Monday, then something that following Saturday.  But before you know it, I have something planned every night of the week following a full week of work, and I am like, what the hell happened?  I sit in bed at night and think about all the I have signed up for and wonder if I have enough coffee creamer to go with my stash of coffee to help me get through all my commitments.

And then it happens.  And I know it is coming and I get scared.  It’s that desire to, yup you guessed it, quit.  That thing that is frowned upon, but sometimes you just have to do it.  I look at my schedule and I am like, ok so what’s got to give?  What can I cancel, what can I skip out on, where is there wiggle room?

This is where I am right now.  I am looking at things and wondering where can I add in some breathing room.  Because, to be frank, I am exhausted.  As I feel like I have been running non-stop since November when I entered into treatment, through the holidays, hopped through my birthday and now to today as I sat talking with my therapist about what activities are adding to my overall betterment and what is withdrawing.

So, I sit and I stare at my calendar and I ponder.  At this point, from what I gather, if I can make it thought this week, and by that what I actually mean is WHEN I make it through this week, I will be fine.  It’s a busy week and you know I am halfway through.  Next week is a much lighter week, and if I can keep my commitments to only three nights a week after work that would be most ideal, as doing things five days a week after working five days during the week, well that has me running on fumes come Thursday and a brain full of mashed potatoes, which is not beneficial for anyone.

I have never been a person who is really a quitter.  I am a person who perseveres.  However, I have been working on being a person that does a much better job at taking care of myself in the form of self-care.  I am working to be much more balanced.  This week got away from me, but I have next week to start over.  I learned what I can handle, and what is too much.  I will apply what I have learned and make it so I don’t end up in a similar place down the road.

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