I have been going through a lot of anxiety lately. Anxiety about my weight, midterm exams, eating, fighting between family members, the death… And quite frankly, I’ve been having panic attacks. Thank goodness I was able to disguise them (I am really good at hiding negative emotions; “bottling them up,” as you may like to call them). So, these panic attacks happen for about 15 minutes or longer, and I told my therapist about it. She thinks that if I find hobbies to help me manage this anxiety, then we may have a solution: healthy coping 101. I don’t doubt that, but I can’t help but wonder if it runs deeper than that.
Anyways, I was lost and I didn’t know what to do for a project to do in my photography class, and I decided to do something that showcases my bipolar disorder. I kid you not, I decided to tell others that I’m bipolar. I figured that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I wanted to practice telling others that I have this mental disorder (aka, my boyfriend). The reaction I got was that the whole room went dead silent. That was kind of discouraging at first, but people were supportive. My professor even suggested that I keep a picture journal of my experiences of being bipolar (well, schizoaffective). I think I might do that and start some sort of photo journal and let that come to life for me. It’d be kind of fun, actually.
Speaking of journal, I bought a new one today. It has no lines in it, so I plan on writing stuff in there and keeping a record of the days I find important, information that I think is neat like astrology or herbal remedies, and pictures that mean the world to me. It’s not exactly a journal, but it’s not exactly a book of shadows either. I guess it’s my spin on keeping a journal.
But yeah, that’s all I can say today. I think it’s because I’m getting much more manageable with these symptoms, and I like where I’m at right now. Except for my anti-anxiety med. That one makes me tired.