Day: February 13, 2022

As if I gradually felt the world sweep my feet away, leading me firmly yet soft down into the endless well of depression, so I landed this week.

Fighting back every inch of the way, now, this Sunday, I sit by the well with my feet dangling over the bottomless depths of my well of inner turmoil.

This week has been quieter than usual; however still busy as Hell. A couple of days have been tough to deal with due to my trouble accepting the depressive side of living with bipolar disorder with mixed episodes.

A beloved guest whirled in the new week with contagious laughter. So I fight back, with laughter, well, right now more like a silent roar into the depths of this bittersweet well of a mixture between happy and harsh memories.

With Tuesday came a minor trip to the oldest town in Denmark, Ribe. There the big girls and I went shopping in a fairytale-like shop, filled from bottom to top with embroidery, sewing machines, and loads and loads of accessories.

But, knowing the hard way it means, in reality, to live according to a strict budget, I kept my cool. I bought 10 meters of leather twine for my dream catcher project later this year. And I got an offer I need to save the money for. A brand new sewing machine, a dream coming true when I get there.

First, I need to save money for a new laptop, as this one is limping, sneezing, and doing all sorts of mischief, wildly unexpected and often rather tricky to fix.

Wednesday and Thursday were perfect for forging a new alliance, the beginning of a friendship, the kind that is rare and, perhaps, therefore, more precious and something to handle with great love and care.

Friday passed by, with me feeling worse and worse, one anxiety attack after another, however small-scale it seemed initially.

And then came Saturday, oh dear Universe, would you please remove that way too tight cloak of inner brain fog? Thank you so very much.

Today is better; however, I still hung over by yesterday’s many trips down anxiety lane, always helping bipolar disorder run alongside it.

Next week better show up with some fresh and mentally enriching energy. I will be the hostess of the next ladies’ luncheon Wednesday, and I really need to clear and clean my home.

So, we begin that tiresome journey tomorrow, my husband and I.

After this blog post, I must make one of my weekly calls to my now eightyfour-year-old father. He is so much more a fan of sports than I will ever manage to be, and he goes on and on with one result after another. But I listen and support his interest by trying to watch at least something every once in a while.

I woke up at five o’clock this morning, but I stayed in bed until a couple of minutes before 6 a.m. Listening to sports that early may seem strange to some people. But actually, it kept me calm inside so that I could work on my enormous amounts of materials for my digital Book of Shadows.

My husband went shopping and brought home all the good stuff for a fabulous Sunday morning meal. Then, after a couple of hours more with the keyboard and my notes, it was time for a longer nap on the couch.

And now, I’m sitting in my living room, messy hair, comfortable clothes, and warm slippers. A slight improvement of my mood tripping to take over from this week, where I went to Hell and back, fighting my inner demons again and again.

So, welcome back, anxiety and bipolar depression.

I really try my uttermost to learn to accept this side of the fact that living with it, well, it will continue to swing from one side to another, as long as I shall live.

But I believe it is just as important, if not, even more, to write about it to put a necessary end to all the prejudices that coil around mental disorders.

And therefore, I write today, even though I don’t feel up for it. This is because the writing has become so deep a part of me that I use it actively to counter the worst side effect of an unstable depression.

Before I know it, I have written 1,000 words in an hour or so. But then, I feel relief, inner calm, and happiness.

Tomorrow is a special day for us. We will have known each other for precisely thirteen years and six months.

Thanks to my support base of good people in my life, I got through a tough week without nearly as many anxiety attacks and dark thoughts as usual.

I take that as a sign of true magick, and I ascribe the success to my husband, who, in particular, is the cliff upon which I trust my life and my happiness.

But also my family and my true friends have worked magick, as I believe that a laugh and a good, long conversation with them can work miracles.

So, after all, this week has been overwhelmingly social in the best of ways. Of course, it takes its toll on me mentally afterward, but never mind, I’ll get straight back in the saddle by tomorrow after a quiet weekend of contemplation and deep shadow work.

May your week be merry, full of happiness, inner peace, good health, and kindness, dear readers and followers. May the drums of impending war silence themselves, may the peoples of the world come to their senses now, and may we humans reconcile and work together rather than fight.

May anxiety and depression leave as soon as possible, now that the first storks have landed in Denmark, a big surprise and an early indicator of the coming of Spring.

As we all will it, so shall it be. Thank you so, dear Universe.

Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again.