Living Better with Depression, Bipolar Disorder and/or Anxiety: strategies, tactics & tools for the short, medium & long-term. Based on my long journeys back from the Dark Side & and falls from high places, past, present & continuing....




(and you're NOT comin' out from under the blankets, no matter WHAT)

Haha, hilarious.  It finally happened, as I knew it would. It feels like you could rule the world and nothing can hold you back.  You're gettin' things done, even making plans. You're going to have a Life!  And then a certain song starts playing, faintly in the background. It goes a lil somethin' like this. Hum along, you might know the chorus...
  I feel my grip on 'reality' start to slip, and all my lovely progress & sense of "being productive" begins to feel a little desperate. I try to keep the vibe going, but within (*insert timeframe*), I am cancelling all appointments, regretting anything I did/said over the last (*insert time frame*) because it just showed everybody what a complete fraudulent waste of space I am; castigating myself for thinking I have any business believing I could make a success of anything. Like run a blog about 'Living' when I just want to step into the Black and be done with it.  What a Hoax! Slowly sinking into a physical, mental, aethereal ParalySea, so that I even if I try to reach my Toolbox the immobility is so total I can neither reach out to it nor stay afloat.  I see its dark and reassuringly rectangular shadow bob by me on my Black Sea, but I am too busy trying to remember why I want to keep trying to breathe, and I will soon lose all memory that a Toolbox exists, let alone be able to use it.

This wasn't meant to be the next post.  I had a useful, sane and positive draft post that I was enjoying writing until I trip-a-ding-donged (I trust you know the -ve self-dialogue as well as I do). I've had a shitty three weeks (three fkn weeks!) on the Flopside, and I have missed my self-imposed blog schedule (meh, that's normal for mentalFolk, I tell myself, I tell myself). In the meantime, as I start to be able to move again,  I thought I would throw this lil 'mini-post' out there in the name of staying true to the Whoopy-Daisy see-saw of Bipolar, Depression & Anxiety Disorders.
 See? I'm not LivingTheDreamAllYouHaveToDoIsFollowMyMethodToAbsoluteBlissAndWealth, or any of those hashtags.  I'm just a person living with an oft-hellish bunch of disorders that has decided to have a go at having a go. I can't always just put on the HappyCanDo Hat and walk the walk.  Sometimes it's just shut the door, put a cupboard up against it, and turn the phone off.  I no longer have expectations of an end date for being a bit of a wignut, but if I'm gunna be finding myself alive each day that I wake up, I may as well have a bit of a philosophy about how I wanna meet the day that I find. Even if that philosophy wavers like a bamboo building in a Tokyo earthquake. Which it does.  Ugh.
 I dunno... there's still a bit a bit of a swim before I can touch sand and wade ashore; dry my clothes off and turn my eyes upward and onward again, but I'm in shallow waters and in sight of Land now. Barring any unanticipated downturn,  I will probably put the next-intended post up within a few days. It's a nuts-and-bolts, TALKING TACTICS subject that I hope you will find interesting.  Until then, if you're UP, make the most of it; if you're ABLE, put some work in; if you're DOWN, Hold Fast! and we'll see you on the other side.