Analogy

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Embracing the Roomba

Mom passed 7 months ago and grief isn’t simple (for anyone). Since early May, my grief has tangled so tightly with my bipolar depression, anxiety, aging, chronic pain, and highly sensitive nervous system that I’ve been left with a knotted ball, growing heavier and heavier.

I move between rooms of our home, no routine, no logic. I will do one-quarter of a task before leaving for another spot where I’ll notice another thing to do and before it’s finished I retreat to the couch. It's a great deal like a Roomba (and if I could fit under the couch like the Roomba, I'd hide there some days).

In one room I will cry because I can’t tell if it’s a King sheet or a Queen and leave the bed unmade. So I'll pull out all my nice Sharpie markers to draw but then can't think of anything to doodle. So, I'll go for a walk only to turn back by the end of the street because I’m just too physically weak (or it’s much hotter than I thought). Eventually, I'll make it into my office to edit an essay but go online to research my local politicians instead. Soon I'll start crying again and go outside to pull weeds. On the porch, I’ll read a single paragraph of the same book I’ve started and stopped four times since Mom passed and then give up and take out the trash but not the recycles.

Perhaps it is post-pandemic, empty-nest, aging-brain induced ADD? I am certain my friends and family with ADD can relate to this Roomba feeling. Grief itself brings a disorientation as the brain accepts that someone should exist that does not anymore.

And while I’m not ready to call this thought "hope," at least today, in this moment, I find comfort in the ways of little Roomba:

move forward a little at a time,

spin away from obstacles to find another path,

be patient with the process, and

return to base to recharge your batteries.

#Bipolar #Grief #funwithanalogies #patience #Depression #OnedayAtaTime #Analogy #KeepMoving #rest

8 comments
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My analogy #Bipolar1 #mixedepisode #Bipolar #Analogy

As i was lying trying to make sense of all the rapid thoughts in my head something struck me...
How do you explain to someone who doesn't experience things the way you do what it feels like to live with bipolar, well the best thing i have come up with is... imagine that you are in a plastic bag, that bag is filled with viscous fluid, there is no air in the bag and every time you move a limb to try and rip through the plastic, the bag just moves to accommodate the new position, no matter how hard you try to fight you are still in the bag and even if you tried to scream there is no air for the sound to travel through, plus screaming would be acknowledgement that you are trapped and that just might make you drown

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I'm just so tired #ItsDarkInHere #MDD #NoEscapeNoWayOut

I'm a simple broken record... I used to work, and play. I would make people happy, but people used me too much. When they want to take me out, I get stuck inside... if they do manage to get me prepared, I just skip and repete the same things over and over. It's difficult, it's too much, I'm overwhelmed, I'm exhausted, I can't, it wouldn't do any good, it's useless, nothing I do matters.
My vinal isnt what it used to be, and I don't know if this record can be repaired. That's why it is isolated from the rest of the collection, gathering dust and breaking down. #Whatsthepoint #Analogy #Broken