A Mind Divided

It’s a game, really, those resolutions.  Something to banter back and forth at the holiday party.  Idle daydreams and wishful thinking.  They swell the enrollments at the YMCA and Weight Watchers in January.  But by March those numbers shrink back to normal.  Resolutions are a little squirt of will power soon overtaken by inertia.

But, see, I’ve gotten this resolution thing down.  Bipolar Bad-Assery takes resolution and slams it to the ground.

A friend asked me recently if I had a good 2012.  In all honesty, I had to say it was the best and the worst year I’d had in a long time.  Lots of physical illness, several surgeries, and rampaging rapid cycling mixed with amazing new friends, a solid weight loss and the completion my novel.  And that’s exactly what Bad-Assery is all about—living and growing in tandem with mental illness.

Every time the illness loosens its grasp I review my resolutions and set my priorities.  Every time.  I struggle out from under the dead bodies, wipe the gore off my face, and start the long process of clearing away the wreckage.

Each time I ask myself the same questions.  What’s most important to my health and wellbeing?  What habits, activities, or practices did I abandon during this episode that I need to re-engage?  What ones are unrealistic and need revision?  Is there anything new I can try?

What I’ve learned is that there’s no way to do this perfectly.  There’s just doing it.  Every day my brain can hold onto some level of stability is a Training Day.  Inertia may drag at me to watch TV or beg off from getting together with friends, but Bad-Ass Training means pushing against inertia.  It means holding the tension of doing something that’s a little uncomfortable.  And the more I can hold that tension, the more tension I can tolerate.

Bipolar Bad-Assery is resolution—to come back, to live, to thrive.  It’s not a game to toss around at parties, but I try to remember to keep it playful—to inject it with humor, and dreaming, and a sense of exploration.  Though those might manifest in a twisted Bruce Willis/Xena/Worf kind of way.  Whatever works, right?

Yippee Ki Yay, Gabriella.  It is a good day to die.