Ah, feels good to be back in the blog-saddle again. My bipolar seesaw seemed stuck at sea level for a while there. Whenever I’m coming out of a funk, I find myself asking how I got funked-up in the first place. I don’t have cancer; I’m only mildly addicted to huffing paint; I don’t own a Chihuahua. What’s the deal?
I think one huge factor is my thinking, or rather not having proper control of my mind. Our thoughts and intentions create our reality (or at least our perception of reality), and if I don’t stay positive, my brain tends to babble like a hateful little goblin, assuring me that I’m breathing too much of the air that real people need to stay alive. Unchecked, my thoughts create spiraling patterns of negativity that suck me into an invisible abyss. When I emerge, I usually feel like the whole episode could have been avoided if I possessed more discipline. I wonder though.
I know it’s unrealistic, even foolish, to expect to be happy all the time. But I would like to at least even out the peaks and valleys somewhat, find a mental middle ground. I believe I can do this by changing or reducing my thinking, but this is a hard pattern for me to break because I’m flying in the face of a lifetime of negative conditioning. However, I don’t feel like I have any other choice.
I encourage you to smile a little more today, even if you feel like choking the person taking up your vision. Laugh a little more, and try not to take things so seriously. Don’t worry: I’ll grind my teeth enough for the both of us.