Friday, April 23, 2010

I was on my way to this page, to write as I haven't for a while. To write as I haven't for so long, to write for the sake of making beautiful words.

But I always get sidetracked, and I did, by writing functionally, as I did just before this, writing to my students on their blog about their friend who had a violent manic episode, telling them about bipolar disorder.

And so I lost my resolve to try and write.

Trying to write in itself is a self-defeating purpose. When you have to try so hard, it becomes labour, it is far better to just jump write in and do, not try.

But I guess it will have to wait. Am now having gastric pain. Another time. And I need to finish that deadline I have on Monday.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

update

I recently got a new phone, a Motorola Android. Instead of writing my thoughts here, I have been journalling inside my phone instead, password protected of course. The Android phone has really helped in my work, teaching and volunteer work alike.

Since my last psychotherapy session I have been forcing myself to do things I don't have the energy to do - going places, meeting people, getting out of the house in general. All these things I am usually too tired to do, I force myself to do them, medicating if necessary.

It is supposed to help positively reinforce me because I can use each success as a step further forward.

But as a result, I think I am becoming more depressed again. My recovery is not going all the way towards total normalcy but is instead reverse-turning. I feel each day like a step in a trek that would lead to no mountaintop or beautiful waterfall, just a journey in trudging and hopefully mercifully falling into or ending at a ravine. I don't think about it. I go on. But in any case, forcing oneself to do things without the physiological energy available of a healthy person is more negating for my health than it is beneficial. Screw all those who say, "Get out of the house more." Forcing myself to go out of my flat is not only making me so tired I lose sight of days and nights sleeping in recovery, or becoming just really sad and glum by doing the act of going-out in itself. How is getting out of the house, when I have simply no energy to, supposed to help?

Anyway, I trudge on. It is shocking for anyone to have to recover my dead body and I probably am just one who needs more effort to live a somewhat normal life. I try to be more religious in my medicine taking. I try to remember the good things. I try. But getting out of my house more does not work in itself, yet, I think I will keep forcing myself anyway. Life is pain and going out of the house is tiresomely painful, so I guess it equates and I should therefore do it.

On the bright side, I enjoy my teaching. I like my current lot of students, they are lovely girls.