I read bipolar blogs and lots of bloggers say that they sleep a lot. I read advice for bipolar people online and it says sleep enough, sleep more. When the medication facilitates it, I sleep enough. When I can, I sleep a lot. Panic attacks knock me out. Fear knocks me out.
My mother was always so worried about the chemical cosh for me; I am glad she can’t see me right now. Dead eyed despair.
Fuck it gets better right up the ass with someone else’s syphilitic … er nevermind. But yeah. Fuck that Pollyanna bullshit. How can it get better when you’re guaranteed it getting worse again? All the hallelujahs of modern medicine and the best help we can expect is remission, which means relief from the two poles of our emotions and strands us blandly between them.
Time for some radical acceptance.
There are three parts to radical acceptance. The first part is accepting that reality is what it is. The second part is accepting that the event or situation causing you pain has a cause. The third part is accepting life can be worth living even with painful events in it.
2. An indefinable/unproven one.
The cause of bipolar disorder is not entirely known. Genetic, neurochemical and environmental factors probably interact at many levels to play a role in the onset and progression of bipolar disorder.
Life can be worth living. No problem with that, I’m sure it can. It has been, often. Totally not ready to think past that though. It’s in the pending tray and I might not ever get to it.