So I am a little woozy this morning after a friend's birthday party last night. I try to banish regret but I regret drinking so much last night.
Got in 9.5 hours sleep which is toxic to me. Wish I could end it, but I stay on for some reason. I say it's the kids, and of course Liz. But it occurs to me that it's selfishness. Thinking of myself and my precious emotional state all the time. Measuring everything by how I feel. Why does that matter?
Liz says I find things to be unhappy about. I looked at the little soap dish Sarah gave us. It had hen and egg soaps in it. It was very sweet but one of those things you wish you didn't own. Using the soap destroys the cute hen and eggs, etc. I look at it and tears well up. Missing the kids I say. Or is it just making myself sad? Then I think, "well, maybe it's really the bipolar and I can't help it." Not knowing where I end and bipolar begins is a constant question. Then thinking it's really all one big thing, bundled together into my fibre, as it were. That doesn't help either.
So the salty tears are drying on my cheeks and I'm going back to work. Work interests me but doesn't occupy my consciousness full-time.
Then I write this. Always hoping some email, or twitter post of something will change my life. Of course I hear all the well-meaning self-help books saying, be positive, head up, get exercise, blah blah blah. I could go to my counselor and work on "tools" that offer a short-lived sense of relief.
Or I could write this. I hope this works at least as well as some new self-healing tome.