Viscosity

Some days just feel slow. Or maybe it's a bit of mild manic impatience with everything. It seems like the whole world is moving at a snail's pace, or possibly slower, and I just want it to hurry up.

I could go on some introspective hunt for the roots of these feelings, but the truth is where they stem from doesn't really matter. Emotions aren't rational, especially when you're living with bipolar disorder. Why do I feel one way or another? Because I have a mental illness. It doesn't really matter why, what matters is getting through it.

Is there some childhood trauma I've locked away deep down? Eh, maybe. Is there some childhood behavior that seems distinctly reminiscent of a bipolar episode? That I can answer with yes. Tomorrow I'll post the immersive narrative short I wrote about the first manic episode I can remember. I was three or four years old when it happened and some aspects of the memory are blurry, but others are sharp and clear, like fragmented glass.

Today the world is moving slowly and I want to hurry up and get somewhere. I just don't know if there's anywhere to get. I have things to do later on-- a ten p.m. tabletop game tonight, my first time reading in church tomorrow morning-- but right now I feel like I'm just killing time. Even following my routing of work, lunch, work, write seems like it's just a means to get through a series of days that won't change.

It would be a lie to say that routine is exciting. It might be stabilizing, it might be good for me and for others who have this illness, but it can also be very boring when every day is repetitive. I also work a very repetitive job, rating webpages for quality and usefulness to search engine queries. Sometimes I see interesting things, but most of the time I have to wade through harmful file-sharing sites and the horrible, useless wikianswers, wondering who on earth would think it's a good idea to use that site for information (seriously, it's not).

The routine isn't exciting. And right now I think I'm being very negative about it, and about everything, which I certainly don't want to. Ultimately I do need this routine to keep myself from slipping back into old, bad habits. Sometimes I worry that I might do just that, and the most frightening part is how appealing the idea is. But didn't someone once say that nothing worth doing is easy?

The day might feel slow, but I can always do something about that. I'd actually really like to go shopping for some much-needed clothes. The game tonight will be lots of fun, and no matter how worried I am that I might much up my reading tomorrow in front of a church full of people, the people who know what I'm doing have been supportive and encouraging about it.

Overall, if the worst thing I have to complain about is feeling like a Saturday is slow, I'm in a much better place than I was three months ago. And if routines and medications have helped me get here, they've obviously done more good than any of my previous methods.