I can’t stop eating frosting. I make it myself. It’s butter, powdered sugar, and today, some vanilla and milk. It’s not helping my quest to be healthy. It’s not doing anything but pleasing my palette.
I think that I don’t really want to be well. When I’m experiencing these super strong bipolar symptoms I don’t care about being well. When I’m well I am committed to being healthy, but I lose the desire as soon as I’m sick. My friend, T. was listening to me talk about missing meds because of throwing up and forgetting meds (which I rarely do.) I’m cycling again, I told her. She asked me, “How many days before you’re back on track?” “Weeks. Months”.
She was shocked. I guess before I knew anything about bipolar I would have been shocked too. I wish I had someone to share my misery and my highs with, but I don’t. I think that bipolar folks generally have low self-esteem. I’ll call and ask them to go out with me, say, take our kids to the part. Then I all again and they won’t call me back. I could think it’s because they don’t like me, but I don’t believe that. I’m so likable! Especially when I’m depressed. I think they think they’re not likable, or fun, so I don’t hear from them again.
I wouldn’t mind a IRL bipolar friend. I probably do, but just don’t know it – or they don’t know it. No matter what, that’s what I’m seeking…
…Also my stomach can sit on my lap and my thighs are rubbing together. This sucks, but I’m obviously not ready to do anything about it.