Taking care of myself

I’ve gotten a lot better at this.  I make sure I eat, try to get up and go to bed at the same time everyday. I try not to push myself when I can help it.  I do things to try and eliminate stress.  I don’t eat or drink anything I’m not supposed to.  I take my meds.

But this second job thing.  While the money would eliminate some stress and make life a little more comfortable, I don’t know if I can handle it.  I want to say I can, but when I told Sara what my plans are I got that “Are you sure?” face from her.

Right now, my biggest trigger is being tired.  My second biggest trigger is the fear and stress of not doing something right. You can see how a new job and 12 hour days could spell disaster for me.

I don’t want to admit that I can’t do something, especially work.  I’m feeling fine right now, which means I want to forget all the bad stuff.  The bad stuff that was happening mere weeks ago.

I called my mom in tears last night when I was trying to fill out the availability part of the application.  How do I choose which days?  I’m protective of my evenings and I have to get up the same time everyday.

She told me I need to wait a month or two until we know I’m stable.  Funny enough, that’s what Sara said too, and she rarely contradicts what I decide to do, good, bad, or otherwise.

Admitting that I’m not better is So. Damn. Hard.  Admitting that I can’t work like I used to sucks. I can’t shake the feeling that if I just try hard enough, I can work as many jobs as I want.

My mood still feels like its on a trampoline, albeit a tiny trampoline, but a trampoline just the same.  I don’t have the consistency I want so badly. Making life decisions feels risky to me.  I don’t know what to say to people that say thing like “You need to just go on a week long vacation to <some remote location>.” or “Go to this conference, it will be great!” or “You should come and spend the weekend with me.”

Taking care of myself sucks.  Its necessary, but it sucks.  I have to carefully pick and chose what I do and when. If side effects aren’t already a constant reminder of bipolar, this careful calculation of deciding what to do and when is.

I wish taking care of myself didn’t consist of making a thousand little decisions every day to stay something that resembles healthy.

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2 Responses to Taking care of myself

  1. I love your metaphor about the “tiny trampoline.” The ups and downs are still there, they’re just like the trampolines from old aerobics videos. Progress is progress – at least we can be thankful for that, right? I had a second job that paid $40/hr, and I had to quit when all of this shit went down last fall. I’m still waiting to go back to it, but oy would that money be helpful. :-/ I guess no amount of money is worth being miserable and unstable. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

  2. Nicole says:

    I told Sara about the “tiny trampoline,” she laughed. She also said that may not go away either. Boo. Money isn’t worth being miserable. Except when your lack of income threatens to compromise your ability to live independently. I won’t be satisfied until I don’t have to rely on my parents to help me.

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