Chubby Little Fat Man

Chubby Little Fat Man

There have been many great tragedies in entertainment over the years, but most notable in my book must be the death of Elvis. Or maybe Buddy Holly. Oh shit – then there’s the likes of Kurt Kobain. And what about the death of the Pirates of The Caribbean franchise owing to the shenanigans of Depp vs. Heard. And what about the falling out of the members of Pink Floyd – that was a proper disaster. Loads of things can be thrown into the mix to screw up the things we find entertaining.

I find it somewhat disheartening therefore that no storm has blown up over my failure to update my blog. I mean, for Christ sake it must be the single most entertaining form of media content on the interweb outside of Fastener and Fixing Magazine – that is properly riveting stuff (clever joke there).

But today I did at least get reminded of why I had been adding content on a regular basis – it is very therapeutic and it helps me deal with being bipolar. I mean the medication helps no end, but being reminded that I am dependent on hard drugs in middle age doesn’t really provide that much comfort. I can embellish this fact to make myself sound very rock and roll though, but when the hard drugs are an antipsychotic originally developed for schizophrenia that gloss rubs off a little. It just sounds like I need to take my meds as I’m a nutter.

Sitting down and writing a few words about yourself when things aren’t so great is an outlet that really does help me get through the shit times. But things are pretty good right now and that is probably why I’ve not been writing anything. But blow me, if it doesn’t half make you feel good when you start to write about something or other when you are in a good place.

I’ve only had a few wobbles recently, but outside of these mini-blips, and the medication that sedates me and screws up my running capacity, and my wife’s constant nagging to check if I’m ok I’m fairly decent right now.

One of the reasons I am feeling rather splendid right now is because of the stance I am taking against my bipolar: As I said before, I can’t get rid of the damn thing, but I can bloody well own it and that is precisely what I have been doing. I don’t go through life not noticing my condition – if I didn’t pay attention to it I’d fall over fairly quickly. I mean it is not a physical disability which must be immeasurably more difficult to deal with, but I have had to realise that I’m not completely ok; with little reminders such as having to notify the DVLA of my condition or risk prosecution that I was reminded of today. I’m still awaiting confirmation that it is ok for me to carry on driving which is a bit of a worry.

But outside of little things like that, I’m feeling bloody marvellous right now and that’s because I am getting myself fit. The impetus for this wasn’t the bipolar itself, more the full on fat boy image I was unwittingly cultivating through my consumption of sweets, biscuits and pizza. The side image of myself in the mirror one morning a while back sent me into a state of shock; within a very short period of time I was going to be able to balance a pint on my gut. My inner mental self screamed at me when I saw this. I had not gone from an absolute Adonis to Wayne (of Wayne and Waynetta fame), but I had progressively become – to quote Bowie/Gervais – a chubby little fat man.

And at that, I started to run. I cut out the junk food. I cut back on the beer. I (mostly) cut out the sweets. After a while I didn’t miss them at all. To be fair, that last statement is bullshit, but I am mentally training myself to think this.

I still have the occasional naughty night of a curry and a few pints, or share a bottle or more of wine with my wife, but these are now treats I allow myself if I have been looking after myself, and this recipe works.

I’ve dropped a stone already and have two more to go before I hit my 39 year old self’s running weight of 11st 6lbs, but I reckon I’ll get close to that by around October; and this is a bloody good thing as I’ve entered the virtual London Marathon so the lighter I am, the more chance I have of making it round in any sort of decent time.

But just as I have sought out the services of a psychiatrist and a therapist to sort my head out, I have now employed the services of a quite wonderful personal trainer. I think the four years growing up in California still rub off on me as this sounds very LA! (having a shrink and a personal trainer that is). I have only had a few sessions with her over zoom, but I am being pushed to another level and I can feel the benefits already. I cannot recommend this approach to anyone who is looking to get fit.

So what is “Owning Bipolar” becoming? Well, I guess I’m now aiming to become the fittest I have ever been in my life both mentally and physically. I have set myself some goals which will culminate on November 6th this year. A year to the day that I keeled over and started this whole journey that I didn’t see coming. I’ll write about my challenge I have set out for myself over the weekend as it’s getting a little late tonight; but owning bipolar to me is about my journey to wellbeing over the course of a year – any why not on my 52nd birthday shouldn’t I feel the best I have in my life.

I like a little challenge.

Scully

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