9-5

I find, that very often people look towards something externally to tell one

  • to do something one already knows if one only listened to ones own needs or
  • to figure out what might work for oneself, instead of having to take the time to reflect inwardly to find out what ones own body and mind actually needs.
  • What both of the above has in common is that neither listens to oneself. This has truly been a vital lesson for me to learn with both my bodily and mental issues.

    For example, to take the easiest one, I have a form of bowel inflammation making me sensitive to lactose and foods rich in fibre. The later is really hard for people to believe as we’ve been fed with the idea that fibres are good for the body. For many, it’s probably true, but does that have to mean that that has to be true for everybody? The same thing applies to my brain. Often we get fed with the concept that to achieve true happiness, the key is to live freely, and to not conform to having a 9-5 job. Again, that may true for many, but I can’t say that it’s true for me. Ok, I admit, it doesn’t have to be a 9-5 job, but it does have to have the routine and the responsibility. Sound boring? Not to me. It does get overwhelming sometimes, but then I have to listen to my body and mind that I need to take a step back. It was, for example, the fact that I finally just listened to my body and mind that I finally did the most difficult thing for me to admit to myself; that I needed medication. I’ve heard and read multiple times that the highs are euphoric, making it hard to step back and slow down. I remember feeling the same way, but honestly, at the end of last year my highs were just making me feel completely crazy and out of control. Lucky for me, medication ended up being the best choice I’ve made (so far) because I do feel calmer (it could also be the oncoming spring and summer).

    A confession: I often used my highs to my advantage. To be honest, I think that many do. When I felt like I had the luxury to be “allowed” to get depressed afterwards (because it does hit me as soon as the high passes), or because I wanted to outshine everybody else at the party (I had this overpowering fear that if I wasn’t the most interesting person at the party, I was nothing) I let myself get swooped up by my mania. In truth, most people bored me, I couldn’t be bothered to care about their petty little issues and their petty and oh-so-very-average lives. I was more than them, and I wanted more from life. B was the only person I felt was good enough. He had (and still has) access to the little bubble that I create(d) for myself.

    Writing it down like this makes it so clear to me how completely ‘off’ this behaviour is. How utterly egomaniacal it is.

    Anyway, knowing that the price of being Cinderella was that I would at the end of the party need to be the cowering little girl with no self-confidence, I often did my best not to let myself become ‘too happy’. Strange concept that. Most people take drugs to get that high, I was doing everything I could to stop myself from enjoying it too much. It all comes down to listening, or at least trying to listen, to what my mind needs. It always has been. It still is.

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