Coming to the Table

I have been working harder in being consistent at writing in my journal. My greatest fear is of one of my greatest weaknesses; consistency. I hesitate to take on volunteer opportunities, to engage in ongoing commitments, because of my fear that I will not follow through. This is a fairly new problem, since 2004, my second breakdown. I guess it’s not so new, but it’s still a problem.

One of the traps that I have consistently fallen into is commitment. I begin a simple task, like taking notes for a committee. Suddenly I find myself in a place of perfectionistic over achievement. Obsessing about details, checking, re-checking, and re-checking again. This is my neuro-chemical downfall symptom of bipolar. Or maybe its just a character flaw. I don’t know.

So, I hesitate. I deflect requests to become involved. I lead a fairly solitary life. But now, I have to face the fear. The coping tool of not getting involved, not getting invested, has left me feeling that I no longer have the discipline to complete any ongoing task. Even a recent bathroom remodel took me three times longer than expected, and was much more a mental drain than a physical one.

So I now I find it is time to challenge myself. Am I willing to come to the table? Am I willing to commit to writing? Every single day? EVERY SINGLE DAY? Not to write the great American novel in a month, or a year, or ever. But to show up at the table every day, for five minutes, or an hour. Just to get there, and as the books say, “get [my] butt in the chair.”

Can I let go of the fear of the crash and burns in the past, the fear of failing in the present? Can I try again?

Can I? Will I?

We’ll see.

From February’s Fury to March Madness

February is a difficult month. For many people, this year has been exceptionally difficult. Record cold temperatures, record snowfall…ergh. It has been physically difficult; at 43, the aches and pains of shoveling are harder to ignore then when in my 30’s. Financially challenging in keeping the oil tank full. Mentally challenging in keeping the woodstove full and the snowblower running. And, most difficult, emotionally challenging. Dark, short days. Long, frigid nights. I find Seasonal Affective Disorder to be nearly as detrimental as unmedicated BiPolar symptoms. Sleeping more, eating more, irritated more – oh my! Such a recipe for disaster. I spent much of this February vacillating between irritated, grumpy, and cranky.

But, now it is March. The maple syrup taps are out on the trees. We should be experiencing warmer days, and less frigid nights. The “spring ahead” time change is tomorrow, so the days will (technically) stay lighter longer. A good thing? I hope.

Unfortunately, the flip side of February’s depression ending is the very real possibility of tipping into spring mania. It is a pattern that I know well. That doesn’t mean I’m any better at managing it. I’ve scheduled my March med management with the psychiatrist, have my bi-weekly appointment with the psychologist, and all the meds refilled. Battening down the hatches. The energy of mania is a seductive thing, but I have grudgingly recognized that it rarely ends well.

Knowing what to expect on the road ahead is helpful. I just keep praying that the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a train!