I often look at the daily prompt but nothing note worthy comes to mind. However today, ‘promises’ leapt off the page and punched me in the gut.
My blog Squirrels at a Rave is a brutally honest and forthright account of my bipolar life; past experiences, present reality, future dreams and promises. The reason I blog is to not only make a bold stand against the stigma that dogs bipolar, but also to empower myself and everyone else who takes this mountain and valley journey.
I strongly believe that anyone who takes up this challenge is a valiant warrior; brave under fire, able to effectively retreat to recuperate and very often winning glorious victories.
In between being under being under fire and celebrating the wins, there is this calm and focussed period where I retreat, catch my breath and recover from the wounds of the frenzied crazy drama.
During this time I take stock, focus and make promises to myself.
I have never considered myself a weak person. I am strong and resilient, albeit not in the traditional sense. I can run with bulls, charge down the red flag and successfully evade the bull horns as well. It’s the time in between that catches me the most. It’s the promises I make to myself over and over again; promises I seldom keep because I can’t. My life doesn’t follow a road map, it takes the path less travelled. Yes, I do take meds, yes these help, yes I see therapists and medical professionals and yes I have an awesome support team. But, no there isn’t predicability, no there isn’t consistency and no there isn’t a forever plan.
I mostly improvise.
Despite my best resolve, I very seldom live up to my own expectations. These are not big, audacious expectations, rather they are simple promises I make to myself. Things I vow to do or never do again.
I have repeatedly promised myself that I will pay attention to triggers and look for red flags. I try, sometimes I succeed, but mostly the mania whips me up onto a flying carpet and then dumps me in dark unchartered territory. Admittedly the triggers are there, but in an escalating irrational state of mind, I don’t actually notice them.
Once I’ve landed and made my way back to normality, I purpose to never let my life get out of control, ever again, ever, ever again.
I berate myself. I make fresh promises. I put strategies in place. I develop fail safe plans. I don my best armour. I pick myself and relaunch myself, I am resolute once again.
There are often times that I remain resolute and in control for lengthy periods of time, so I make more promises:
I will never give away my power.
I will never become reclusive and shrink away from society.
I will never go on mad shopping sprees.
I will never stop eating or over-indulging.
I will never expose myself emotionally.
I will never allow myself to collapse into an emotional catastrophe.
I will not let myself disappear.
I will take care of myself.
I will answer my phone when it rings.
I will delegate.
I will speak up and use my voice.
I will embrace my worth.
I will purpose to like myself.
I will not shrink into the darkness.
I will not let myself down again.
I will keep my promises.
And then just out of the blue….. I’m flying the carpet all over again ...
Then when my feet have found solid ground, I make more promises, I always do. It’s the way I survive. It’s my hope and my purpose. It points me towards my true north.