Yes indeed the last few days’ posts have been a reflection of my mental state. We call this a mixed state here in Bipolar land and it seems to have eased. It’s more than a little exhausting. I was reflecting yesterday how before therapy and medication this last week might have ended quite differently. This time, I dyed my hair purple. Big deal. Some years ago, however…
Any number of things might have punctuated the week. All unhealthy and destructive. Some perhaps devastating. I have wandered the wreckage before without knowledge or support, descending into the blackness of depression, the irritability and anxiousness of mixed states and the euphoria of hypomania. How in the world did I survive? I’ve mentioned previously it is likely due to intellect. (This is what my therapist says at any rate). Even locked in the savagery of my mind, I was able to grasp some semblance of insight. Not enough to look for therapy, mind you. But enough to have some healthy conversations in my head as well as a deep commitment to personal growth.
I did not know these things, I followed (some) of my instincts. I couldn’t have told you I was working on personal development, nothing so eloquent as that. Truthfully, it was more a result of assessing my surroundings and attempting to match the status quo (via harsh self criticism) than any conscious effort on my part to grow into a better person. This creative adjustment (as we call it in Gestalt therapy) began in childhood as a means to not break the rules (which were forever changing so you can see my childhood predicament – big job for a kiddo).
Enter adulthood and this survival technique became less useful in that I didn’t have a general whole sense of self (aside from striving toward perfection) and that brought its own difficulties. Cue hypomania when I sometimes believed I was awesome and made less than insightful decisions – ultimately leading me back to self hatred in the wake of embarrassment.
And thus the cycle continued. More on that another time. Today I dye my hair purple because I have attended to my self care in a very intentional way – an adaptive adjustment brought to you by the letter T. (For therapy – cheesy, I know).