No news, as they say, is good news. And in this case, that’s correct.
I’ve been pretty stable all through the Christmas season. Minimal suicidal ideation, a little anxiety, some [bipolar] dissociation, and the usual (relatively) low-level OCD.
That’s how unpredictable mental illness is; a renowned ‘stressful’ time can have little effect, whereas a ‘manageable’ time can see symptoms escalate wildly.
The meds are working, it must be said. Talking therapy would be useful, but that’s not going to happen.
I’ve even been tempted to begin writing again (a 4th P.I. Wall crime novel) but I’m not painting; there has been some collage work and poem-writing however.
Work can be very stressful, especially with us waiting on ESTYN to re-inspect us.
I continue to become physically less fit, and the meds are still making me put on weight. Swings and roundabouts, I guess.
