I haven’t shared everything. I guess that part of me is regretting sharing so much because I feel like perhaps you are making judgements on me based on what I write. Please don’t get me wrong, these posts contain in situ recounts of my mind space, but they do not represent the whole total of my mind capacity. Parenting has been a hard slog for me, I mean, how many people come through the first five months to be diagnosed with a psychotic episode, and then two months later be told that the ‘might have bipolar disorder’. Not many is the correct answer. No-one I know in my face-to-face world. No-one in my support groups. I am that lone person whose world has just been shattered and then I am expected to just pick up the resemblance of myself and go back to the world that I once lived so adeptly in.
My mind is clear on some levels – I can see that perhaps broadcasting my sense of self and sharing it with everyone I know perhaps was not the best of idea. I can see that what I do is important, and that on some level, fulfilling, but on another level it is not enough for me. I can tell that the way that I am functioning can in part be blamed on the side effects of the medication (blurred vision, cotton wool head, sleeplessness).
But there are other moments that are not quite so clear. Like why do I have to go food shopping? Why are we all subscribed to this consumer existence? Surely there must be something more to life, but I feel like I am stuck on a cycle of buy, use, consume, buy, use, consume…
This is the stuff that has been getting me down. This is the stuff that I have neglected to write about. How I fear that even going back to work won’t bend a spoke in this cycle.