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World Bipolar Day

Today, March 30th, is World Bipolar Day. Just for transparency’s sake, I’m writing this post while feeling the most depressed I’ve been since December. I’m frustrated and tired, because despite doing everything “right” I’m back here, feeling like shit and barely being able to take care of myself. After a couple months of a pretty decent mood, earlier this month I experienced my first mixed episode, which had me seriously considering a trip to the hospital, even though I’d sworn I would never step foot in that building again. I was starting to think maybe life can be consistently Okay, meds are doing their job well, and my bad days can be just that, but apparently that's too much to ask for. So I’m afraid I don’t have the most positive outlook on bipolar-related things right now. Okay, you've been warned. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (or “manic-depressive psychosis” as one of my records still calls it for whatever reason) in 2022, after a particularly bad, and my only, ...

bus posting

 Hello, blog readers! I am writing to you from a bus. Okay, coach. Did you know you can write a blog post on a bus? It’s actually allowed. 

After a long day of travelling – and I mean long, I woke up at 5am to catch a 6.20 train and it’s nearing 6pm now – I’m finally winding down. We’re driving past quiet towns and villages. I can’t see much most of the time between them, because it’s dark already, but whenever we approach a slightly more populated area I get to look out the window and enjoy the view. 

We drove through one bigger town. It was just starting to get dark and the air was that almost fluorescent shade of blue it sometimes is on winter evenings. All the shops and cafes were still lit up, employees walking around them with brooms or organising inventory. People with dogs on walks. Pub windows fogged up with condensation so much that you could not see inside, they just radiated a soft glow. Fairy lights hung in windows and in alleyways, not sure if they’re a remainder of christmas or just the charm of that place.

And every now and then, a row of little brick houses lit up with yellow and white. And every house, every window where someone’s setting up a table or someone else is watching tv I think about what if one day my boyfriend and I live in a little house like that somewhere, making dinner and living a little life in the warmth of the yellow light of the lamp hanging over our kitchen table. Maybe just because I’m on my way to see him.


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