The Creatives’ Guide to Living With Bipolar Disorder: Would I Like to Talk about my Anxiety?

12724643_1763824533839088_612201933_nThis fortnight has not been great. It sounds silly but it’s only when Uni goes her on much-deserved hols (and the cats take over again, as is their right as Rulers of the Earth), that I realise how much I rely on her emotionally. After all she’s a crap guard dog but she does, to her credit, growl menacingly now and again and, at least, tries to eat the Waitrose delivery man as he carries my groceries in.

We’ve established a firm ‘eat them after the food has been unpacked’ rule.

She can do scary when she needs to and that’s all that’s important, especially as she’s as protective of her territory as I am. I protect her from potential dogs which might hurt her (aka any small/yappy dogs that she thinks might even me slightly suspicious) and she protects/consoles me.

Now if she could just get people’s credit card numbers and sort codes when she’s being fussed for the other 98% of that time … but, ah well.

Yesterday morning she got to catch up with Bramble (I got hugs, which helped given the 10mg of Valium I’d just taken post-panic attack). That makes, like, my fifth in two weeks and I am not a fan. Drinking is normally my way out of this (oddly I don’t want to get addicted to Valium) but I’ve made a conscious switch to a very nice Normandy apple juice with fizz in it from M&S. It look like cider, tastes like cider and, for the price of four cans of cheaper hooch, I can get two bottles which will last me a couple of days.

If it helps me with my alcohol … issue, I’m all for it. Failing those, I’m cutting back on coffee and going for a cheaper option, these nice Innocent lemon/lime/apple drinks. Now the weather is sort of warming up, there are mornings when I want a cold drink not a mocha. Plus my meds are making me stupidly thirsty so I’m drinking water like a fish anyway.

But yeah, the anxiety is not good and it’s the most random things: loud noises like the doorbell unexpectedly going off and the Oven of Doom at Starbucks (it sounds like something counting down in a Bond movie), the kids playing outside who find the need to commentate every time Uni goes out to pee, my phone ringing, Uni’s toileting habits (though she’s under the weather today so I couldn’t pick up even if I tried). Uni crossing paths with D and shaking as she sits at the bottom of the stairs.  Oh and people.

Oh and people.

Not having Uni and it being a little harder to get off my estate due to electric works, it meant I stayed in a lot more. That, in itself, didn’t make me anxious, in fact it was almost comforting. I was able to settle and focus on finishing Ash Seeketh Ember (it’s nearly 30k, with one chapter left for me to write). Normally focus is a huge problem because Uni needs to go out every four hours or so and, if we’re out, she’s distracted by other people, many of whom she knows.

Little things like that, well it has a bigger effect on me than it does her.

For starters people move out the way of a person with a dog. I’ve spent several days walking bang into people without them either moving or, instead, suddenly stopping dead for no reason. With a dog, I’m basically Moses doing the Red Sea trick. Dogs are more adaptive and Uni, barring small dog alerts, can help me move much more fluidly.

At the same time, I’m a lot faster with my cane simply because it’s just me. There are no loo breaks, no need to snuffle at that nice bit of grass or endure people going ‘Aw a dog! Can I pet her?’. That said I’m also getting a lot more assertive by saying no because she’s lying down and it’s taken me five minutes to settle her. This is thanks to Mhairi who’s almost been giving me an advanced course on dealing with people without swearing at them (I’m not actually allowed to tell someone to F off, as much as I would dearly like too nigh on daily’).

Uni’s tartness, it’s a part of her character and I wouldn’t change that for a second. She’s my dog and they all come with their own individual characters, the closer we come to the end of her working life, the more I value her. She’s a curious creature but, at the same time, she’s always looking for me when people pet her, not for permission but to make sure I don’t run off. That’s love right there.

I had a phone call from the Wellbeing Service (I got passed over to them a month ago, right before everything kind of went to shit) and they politely explained I’m going to have to wait for therapy (mainly talking/CBT) which is fine by me. I waited a year for my Asperger’s diagnoses, I waited three for my bipolar 2 and over a decade before I was formally registered as blind. I can do waiting, I just hate that every phone call seems to come at the tail ends of intense periods of anxiety and stress.

So my plan for this week is short story revisions, getting Ash done and proofed and watching as much YouTube as possible. It’s the little things that help, right?

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