This year I have learned that I have an illness called bipolar disorder. I’m still coming to terms with what that means other than a fancy way of saying ‘artistic temperament’. But I am aware that something is, well not wrong, more is it’s there.
Bipolar to me is a chemically induced roller-coaster ride of emotions, massive highs followed my massive lows. Both of which, perversely, I wouldn’t change for anything!
I am who I am and always have been, if I change now then I’m only betraying myself. And that will ultimately fail.
What I am learning though is to control the chemicals in my head, and to this end I have changed my lookout to everyday existence. No longer will I or do I over stretch myself in the vain hope that I can convince myself that overworking is the right thing to do.
In other words I’ve slowed down my work a day world. I do what I need to then go and play golf.
Why not? The world didn’t stop when I was ill, it didn’t miss me – and for that matter I didn’t miss it. What I do miss is life.
Life is important, people are important, not a self induced work ethic based on societal pressures.
And that brings me to another matter – societal pressures.