24 Little Hours

I read somewhere “What a Difference A Day Makes, 24 Little Hours” (actually it might have been fro my as yet unpublished memoir). As I got older and life got harder I became a fervent believer in this creed. One day I could be with friends and family celebrating, enjoying each other’s company. Or I could be engaged in some solo pursuit- Diamond Art or making collages- listening to a book on tape. One day could be pleasurable. And then (this had happened) 24 hours later I could be in an ER rocking back and forth until they medicate me. Our days are fragile which is why we need to enjoy them while they are happening. 

I was really worried this time. I did not feel myself and I was worried a hospitalization was in the cards. But if you have a caring and determined doctor and dedicated parents and friends and an amazing boyfriend….no, not this time. Bipolar will not make a victim of me. I read as my hands shook because of increased medication. I struggled to do my Diamond Art. I felt numb but I forced myself to engage with my friends when we went out for one of their birthdays. I stayed home yesterday because I needed to take of myself. And I’ve been taking the increased dosages.

I’m finally breathing easier again. Is it too early? Will I ever breathe easy? Will the threat of that terrible place ever go away? But I’m not going to spend the rest of  my life looking over my shoulder. Tonight I’m going out with a friend. We will stop at Michael’s so I can get Diamond Art, some new cardstock for collages (I want to make them more often) and maybe even stickers. To anyone out there who is having a tough time I just want to say I feel for you (I feel for you so much!) and try to take it day by day. One day at a time. 24 little hours.