For the last year, I’ve been in this full-steam-ahead mode, mostly because of nursing school (only 58 more days … how???), and having moments of doing nothing, or simply existing without producing something, seemed like such a waste. Even routine self-care, like washing my face or brushing my teeth, was this pointless thing that took away from being productive, and of course, when I stopped caring for myself, suuuurprise! I went into a bit of a depression.

So my homework for the next month, per my NP, is to take thirty minutes per day to just … be. To grab a cup of tea and sit on the deck, looking out at nature; to go for a walk that isn’t about exercising; to play with watercolor paints but not for internet share-a-thons … basically, my goal is to enjoy that space that is only me. Because a lot of my brain activity recently has been telling me that I, by myself, am not worth much. I’m dependent on a lot of people right now because of school, I’m not a parent or significant other or whatever, my body is not like it used to be, I don’t have a lot of social media presence, and my friend group has shrunk over the years. Here’s the thing – there isn’t anything objectively wrong with any of the above, but I’ve decided that they’re negative and that my worth is therefore in the negative. And if I’m not working on correcting the things I listed, what even is the point?

No wonder depression has set in.

I haven’t decided what I’m going to do this evening as the first day of my practice. Maybe I’ll take my sister’s dogs for a walk after it cools down a bit (Cupcake can’t move super quickly because she’s old). Or maybe I’ll do a meditation like my Fitbit keeps recommending. Oooh, or maybe I’ll take a bath and drink glass of wine. This has the potential to be something I don’t keep up with – here’s looking at you, my one second a day video idea – but I’m hoping I can make it a habit.

So I’ve been medicated for bipolar type 2 for months now, and it’s been great for the most part. I’ve dealt with situations that would have broken me for weeks, my road rage is under control, I can focus … the list continues. I kind of feel like I may be existing in a more human form than I have for my entire life, which is a bit bracing. Who knows what could have happened had I been diagnosed earlier? But I can’t think about that. Except that I do, because I am me.

My bipolar disorder still manages to send me into spirals, despite my medication. They’re significantly less death-related than they used to be, thankfully, but it doesn’t make them any less disruptive. Take my most recent discovery about myself.