I spent the rest of the day in a huff. Very huffed for me, and quite sorry I let my bad habits get out of hand without realising it. I have already swithched to rooibos tea, although decided I wanted just one coffee this morning. Snaff. I hate being this good, I like having bad things for me obviously. Anyone would think I seriously overdo these things, it's just I have very little metabolic tolerance for them.
I can say I slept until past 9am this morning so the lack of coffee and tea as a stimulus definately improves my actual sleep. The psychiatrist told me I was in denial about being Bi-Polar, and that I was hanging on to the idea that I was creative because I am Bi-Polar. He said that I was unquestionably more creative regardless of being Bi-polar and that I was not expected to get myself in the same state, regardless of outside pressures.
He was right of course, I can't blame circumstances and pressures externally. It's how I react to them that govern my wellbeing. Snaf, snaf snaf snaf. Snaf and footstamp. I suppose It's just that I don't like the idea of being so grown up all the time.
Anyway, I have had to keep undoing this Jacket I am making, because I keep getting it wrong. It's the same process I suppose when I am putting myself back together. I have to accept the finished garment won't work or fit if I leave the mistakes and try to cobble something together that doesn't fit the grand design I have for it.
Still, after a while I do get and unpick the bits that haven't worked and re-work them properly. Perhaps I will be able to do the same with God's help over tha last few mistakes I made this year!
It is not realistic though of the psychiatrist to say that if I didn't do any of the above, and stuck to this straight jacket plan of zero stress, personal management drug therapy, and all the things I am supposed to do/not to do, that I would never have anther delusional episode. You can never say 'never'. Ther must be some small element of me that would simply buck the thought of it. Besides I wonder if anyone else could live in this kind of personal iron straitjacket, or is this just my addictive neurons waggling about in sheer terror at the thought of being given no mercy!