I felt like a monster after my last post and most of today. The blackness in the painting (previous post) is self-hatred. I don't feel it in manias until it turns into paranoia. I avoid contact with others because my delusions tell me they all hate me too. In depression that self-hatred pounds me down. Over and over, hammering me to the floor. It feeds on itself in depression. It is a struggle to get up after the first blow. It is nearly impossible after the second or third.
I am in a constant fight with myself for myself. Acceptance is difficult with these two extremes in my head. I struggle with keeping an awareness of this self-hatred and the good person I know I am. The polarization of mania and depression make this attempt even more difficult. Some days I just don't have the strength to fight it and I let it win for that day. Other days I am more conscious and perceptive to not letting it touch me.
Today in order to face the fight, I ran. I took Daddy dog, Brut and we ran for two and half miles straight. Then I took his two kids for a walk. I'd almost forgotten what that feels like as I have been so mentally and physically drained these last three weeks and haven't even thought of walking the dogs. There is something powerful in our one-on-one walks. It is one of the greatest weapons I have and there are many days I am just unable to do it. Consistency as you may guess with the extremes of being bipolar, are difficult to manage. I try my best, yet some days I am unsuccessful.
Today was a victory. At one point, I was on the verge of losing my mind and now things seem to be back in their proper place. This is the longest I have ever went not being in a hospital, taking my medication, not drinking or drugging, not being abused and being in a loving, secure relationship. I am charting uncharted territory. I'm going to screw up. I didn't get this way overnight and I'm not going to heal overnight. One step at a time, it is all I can do. For today, I'm good with that, because it worked.