“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
― Charles Bukowski
OK, by the standards of the normal person, I’m a sick bumbling mess. But by my standards I have had a pretty good weekend. Granted, the meds are keeping my mood stable, I’ve had no nasty triggers this weekend, and I’ve let myself live in my little bubble of medicated bliss, which only my Husband is allowed to see me in.
I’m still in a tonne of pain, and I’m still not coping with pretty much anything. But what this means is I am on a LOT of medication, mood stabilisers, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, opiates for the pain. All this with a stress-free weekend and a Husband with a great sense of humour leads to a medicated bliss. Sometimes being crazy has it’s perks!
So, I can’t verbally string a sentence together, and I am typing this like an 80yr old who has never seen a keyboard before (I normally touch type at least 70wpm) but… I haven’t had a breakdown this weekend, I haven’t shouted, screamed, cried, wished for death, cut, or worse.
I’ve talked and laughed with my Husband, I even let him cut my hair! We’ve snuggled in front of the TV, eaten some treats bought by family, talked about life once I get well again. When I can reinvigorate my business which he helps me run, when we can plan a holiday, when we can get out of the awful house we are living in and away from the landlord from hell.
I had a weekend where I didn’t feel like the end of the world was nigh…
Being bipolar makes you truly appreciate the small things, would I have appreciated such a simple, “boring” weekend if I didn’t have the mental and physical health struggles I have. I doubt it.
I sometimes think this illness is a curse, then a weekend like this makes me wonder if it is on fact a gift to remind me to appreciate every single second of peace and joy I get.