Gray

Life this year has been gray and small. Last year when I was attending outpatient classes at St Patrick’s, a therapist named Sinead had a no-nonsense approach to people with bipolar disorder; she made it clear they were the same as everybody else. And they can successfully live daily life the same as everybody else. She took me to task for even inferring that I felt different. I hadn't meant anything derogatory, I had just been trying to say that I seemed to find normal life harder than some. Not everybody, just some.

In 2008 I learned coping mechanisms and built them into my daily routines, trying to create a more balanced lifestyle. I took an 8-week mindful meditation course. (Of course, I still made bad decisions relating to men and relationships or lack thereof.)
Then I went home for Christmas. I spent two weeks with my parents, five siblings, their spouses, and ten nieces and nephews. I hardly drank or smoke. I returned to Dublin, already feeling homesick and depressed on the plane.

I continued to not drink and smoke (with the odd exception) in 2009. All the healthy daily routines I had worked on in 2008 were gone though and I couldn’t be bothered to relearn them. I found it difficult to leave my bed, let alone unpack or go to work. I blew off going to see friends I hadn’t seen in a couple of years.

My life got grayer and smaller.