Someone close to me recently had their first panic attack and described it as the most frightening experience of their life. Equating it to what a mental/emotional/physical heart attack might hypothetically feel like, it was evident that this person had been truly affected by this incident. And not in any positive way.
As someone with bipolar disorder, I have a lot of experience in feeling awkward or out of place because of my condition, when said condition is known. It’s nothing new, and although it never “gets easier” you learn to go along with it. Sometimes you got to get ahead of the charade before you become the charade.
If it hadn’t happened to me and if it wasn’t true, it might almost be comical. Last time I was here blogging I was describing the tranquility needed at the end of a trip of any sort. If you remember, my family and I extended our little getaway an extra day to be used only to recharge and recuperate. Which I guess in theory sounded great. It really did. That was right up until the next morning before we checked out.
So, we decided to stay another night just to have a full evening of recovery and relaxation (reading for me) before we make the seven-hour plus drive home. We’ve had a full day of family fun and it seemed like a no-brainer to take a night to unwind before we headed home; no need in going home so worn out that the trip becomes something we want to forget. Also, we all seemed to be excited at the idea of just getting to sit around and read or write or color.
Though I’ve never found any of the generic “coping skills” that work for me, I have noticed that meditation is on every list. Just another bullet point: mediation.
In 2002 Stephen King temporarily gave up on writing bestselling novels and wrote a little book chronicling his rise to fame and discussing exactly … 10 Essential Writing Tips from Stephen King’s “On Writing”
We’ve done very little as far as “touristy” things go, to be honest, but that’s been just fine with me. I come down here enough to know that this is the part of the trip that matters.
When I was 14 (as cliché as this is going to sound), I read a series of books that either opened up doors for me or that I just liked. And again (as cliché as it sounds), On the Road was one of them. Of course, it was a book that changed the playing field, but for me, it was the introduction to a bigger world.
If this were of any consequence and if I were a person of any significance, this one certain belief/opinion I have regarding a specific matter I hold would most likely be considered controversial or just plain ignorant. No, it’s not political, or derogatory in any other fashion. It’s a simple idea on what some may call a “philosophical” matter, but for me, it’s really a non-issue.
When COVID made its grand debut back in early 2020, no one was sure how serious it was going to be. That is until there was a massive shortage of things like milk, bread and toilet paper (in my area it was a complete wipeout). But no one expected the breadth of things to come until people’s personal health and medical treatment were on the line.
First off, work is picking back up as the warmer weather is (maybe) finally starting to settle in. I work for both a lawncare and a construction company. Yards will need to be mowed; houses will need to be built or repaired. Things are about to pick up and get busy. It’ll be mornings of rushing to get the kids shipped out to whoever is watching them on that day by 6 am. It’ll be the “get-up-and-go” this household really needs.
If the mind is truly like a muscle, then blogging must be the last leg of a 10-mile race. That might seemf like hyperbole, but it’s actually based in some reality.
If these city blocks could talk, would you hear the hollow echo of my soul’s soles, edging around the lonely buildings, thru the twisted and deformed night?
I would say I can’t be the only one with bipolar disorder who knows how well this disease operates under the pressures of a job and workplace, but I already know that I’m not; it’s a topic that is oftent used when writing about bipolar disorder. It may seem like a tired beat, and I certainly do not have anything new to add to the conversation. My experiences are not uncommon or unique. They are just mine. But I’m assuming you already know that if you’re here reading this.
It’s cliche, yes, but nonetheless it comes with the territory. Part metaphors, part exaggeration, “sex, drugs, and mania” pretty much sums up my personal experience with the dangerous and unpredictable nature of the madness.
As a musician and just as a human being on a very basic level, music is a key part of my every day. I’m making no correlation between the madness and the necessity of music in one’s life, it’s just a fact: music is a key part of my life.
“If I can’t feel, if I can’t move, if I can’t think, and I can’t care, then what conceivable point is there in living?” – Kay Redfield Jamison It’s been a pretty “blah” week on my end of things, personally and professionally that is. My wife has been sick, so I’ve tried to pick up…