I've just had a Bipolar Weekend. On Saturday I was almost catatonic. Withdrawn, at times desperate. I made myself or rather my mind made myself a prisoner of the house. Talk about depressive rumination. I was a keyboard warrior, glued to Facebook and Twitter looking for some trifling amusement. I am an addict. I realise that I have transferred my binge drinking and dope smoking to spending inordinate amounts of time on social media. Perhaps the latter is less self destructive than the first two but it is still a waste of life and money. I suppose I am looking for answers but knowing full well by now, that there aren't any. Anything that tickles the confirmatory bias! The pleasure when you are able to exclaim 'I knew it'. I ended up googling social isolation. Just like googling your medical symptoms, a recipe for disaster. After an hour of this, I looked like Droopy.
I've never liked Saturdays. I find that if you don't plan for them, they just flop. It's always busy out and about so I was busy working out avoidance tactics. Where can I go to avoid the crowds? So I played the safety card and stayed at home. I was in bed by 6.30pm.
Today, Sunday, I realise that I needed to do this to recharge the old Bipolar batteries. I realise that I am on rechargables. On Thursday and Friday I saw 3 friends, well two friends and one neighbour and on all occasions I did more listening than I did talking. After the neighbour, I felt well and truly brow beaten and my mood had been affected. My mood is always affected by other people, by crowds, by the hustle and bustle. This is why perversely I choose social isolation. Yesterday I was low, today I was high. I was determined to make the most of the weather but I didn't want to bum around home territory. I flung the bicycle in the back of the old jalopy and I headed out of Dodge. I wanted to get out of Wales. This Blog is testament to my love hate relationship with the country. I don't usually like Sundays but it is usually quieter than Saturdays but again if you don't make plans, this can happen.
I travelled 30 miles to Bristol and parked at Clifton Downs. Dragged the bike out and freewheeled down through bootiful Brizole. I didn't know of its existence before today but I came across the Bristol to Bath Railway line. Bath, seriously? was it possible to cycle all the way? It was, 13miles there and 13 miles back. So the energy I stored up yesterday was used today to generate some natural dopamine and serotonin. I was on my own but did not feel socially isolated. It was busy. There was a nice vibe. There were catering facilities for cyclists. It was very pleasant.
I don't think that I am 'Rapid Cycling' although the down moods appear to be getting longer and more intense. I am sighing a lot which is starting to annoy me. Today's high was not 'Hypomanic' high because just as I was feeling good on the way back to Kairdiff, I looked at the Toll Charges for the Second Severn Crossing £6.40.
I realised that I had to get a job and this brought my mood down further.
.jfif)
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