I haven’t drawn a picture or picked up a paintbrush in weeks, I can no longer juggle three balls for any length of time and I can’t remember the last time I had a ‘great idea’. The furniture in my house has been in the same place for weeks, I never filled that “perfect summer shoe” void, never bought an iPad and the staff at Ikea must be missing me.
Even blogging is an effort.
‘They’ have won. I am dull and boring and just sit, doing nothing waiting to get better.
I said in a previous post it worried me that I was surrounded by a ‘team’ of medical professionals who only knew me when I was ill, didn’t know who the real me was, and there was a real risk I’d end up being medicated into someone I’m not.
Seriously, I don’t do anything anymore, I have no passion for anything and I can’t get excited by anything either. If this is stability ‘they’ can keep it.
I say this as today has been a good day by recent standards- no weeping or wailing, no desire to end it all, no hiding in my bedroom with the blinds shut, I even went out without worrying about it very much. I cooked, I cleaned, I dozed on the sofa- I existed.
Yes it’s better than the depths of despair but its not living, it’s existing and I think I deserve better than that.
I don’t even listen to music anymore (bit of a waste of the three iPods I bought during my last manic episode) I just drift about from one mundane task to the next in silence.
Perhaps this is progress? I don’t feel like it is, I’m almost glad I’ve had all my usual internal battles with my own disordered thinking to keep the interest levels up a bit.
Perhaps though this is the calm before the storm? I was hyper-active today and did over-spend.
Please let it be anything other than how I’m going to spend the rest of my life.