Today the bipolar pendulum swings deep into depression. The drive to sleep through it, to eat through it, pulls me like beefy fists wrapped around my shirt with another pushing me from behind. I can’t quite stay on my feet.
But between the muggings, I keep breathing as mindfully as I’m able. I keep walking, placing one foot intentionally before the other. I look in the mirror and practice smiling. I tally what I eat. I move my limbs, so wooden, through the water in Penny’s pool. I notice how I consider Penny as a safe haven for my cats should I chose to leave them behind, and acknowledge the death thoughts as part of the pendulum swing. A swish of air is all.
No movies to escape to today, so I must be creative in my distraction when creativity is impossible. I will plug in my ear buds and walk. Then, ride my friends’ stationary bike. Then, walk some more. Because I can do this without thinking about it too much. Because the exercise will make me feel better.
And the pendulum swings.