As I drove to my badminton class yesterday, I thought about how grateful I am that I can commit to a biweekly class for 18 weeks. Two years ago was the first time in a long time that I could enroll in a class and attend every session.
One of the problems with frequent depressive episodes was that for the longest time I didn't know when they could hit. Unfortunately, I hadn't yet realized that my lifestyle and my response to stressors was contributing to these episodes. But now that I've figured things out, it's truly a joy to be able to sign up for classes I like, and participate in a host of activities.
In the last few weeks, I have spent time with a number of friends and acquaintances who are out of sorts, seem somewhat lost, and aren't truly engaged in activities they enjoy.
In some cases, they're retired or semi-retired. (Some are employed, but after decades spent working at the same career, they've lost their passion and their interest in it.) A few are taking a break for medical or psychological reasons. But, the commonality is that there is no order to their days. They seem to have forgotten--or perhaps never knew--how to balance their lives. And they don't have a sense of mission as to why they're on the planet.
After a few days spent with people like this, I began feeling a bit under the weather myself. If there's one thing I truly dislike, it's being with people who are lost or drifting and either won't admit to themselves that they have a problem, or won't try and seek a solution.
In the bipolar world, it's easy to blame everything on medication and doctors who lack insight. In life, there seem to be many people who are seeking someone else to blame--whether it's their childhood, a former spouse, a lack of money, or their situation in life--whatever it may be.
As far as I'm concerned, no matter what the causal factors, ultimately we're responsible for finding meaning and happiness in our own lives. For me, that's what wellness is all about. And that's what I intend to write about this week.