A while back, I wrote a post on making unimportant decisions when you have bipolar disorder. I was talking about things like deciding on what socks to wear or what to eat for dinner because even those types of decisions can baffle people with bipolar and cause great anxiety. But what about when you have to make the big decisions? How can you make life choices when you have bipolar disorder?

Living with bipolar disorder has its ups and downs. Okay, I guess that goes without saying, but in this case, I’m not talking about hypo/manias and depressions, I’m just talking about good days and bad days. Everyone has them, although, for people with bipolar disorder they are more exaggerated. Likely, if you’re in treatment, your down days are lessened, but I think for everyone they still occur. But what happens when you seem to just have downs?

I eat too much ice cream. I admit it. Häagen-Dazs and I have far too close a relationship. And the fact that this close relationship exists indicates that I’m losing a battle with my bipolar brain.

I’ve been writing about bipolar disorder for 11 years and I’ve been a professional in the field of mental illness for about four. In other words, I’ve been thinking about bipolar disorder, a lot, for a very long time. And I’m not the only one. Whether you happen to write about bipolar or just suffer from it, bipolar can easily inhabit your life 24/7. There’s the bipolar routine, medications, sleep cycle worries and many, many other things that, when dealing with bipolar, creep into your daily life. But sometimes it’s really important to forget about bipolar disorder for a while.

I have commented in my writings that, sometimes, I use dissociation as a coping technique. Now, I’m not saying this is the best thing to do nor am I suggesting that it’s professional-recommended, I’m just saying it’s what I do to get through the day at times. So, people have asked me, what is dissociation? Does dissociation help or hurt someone with bipolar disorder?

So I’ve just returned from 10 days in Parma, Italy (see about bipolar vacation planning, here). It was a week-and-a-half of parmigiano reggiano, prosciutto di Parma, gelato and other things that only Italians really know how to make. People often joke that they “need some time off to recover from that vacation.” Yes, hilarious. I’m not exactly sure what they mean by this but what I can say is that as a person with bipolar, I absolutely do need time to recuperate from a vacation.

Are you heading off for a vacay this summer? I am. Actually, I’m on mine right now. I’m writing this to you from Parma, Italy while eating some of the world’s best gelato. And while sun and gelato and gnocchi and whatnot are worth crossing continents for, there are some things to keep in mind whether you plan on vacationing in Italy, the Tropics or two towns over. Bipolar should play a part in your vacation planning.

These days my functionality, and bipolar pain level, is fairly predictable. When I wake up, I feel pretty crummy. Slowly, as the coffee hits my system, I feel a little better and become more functional. That functionality, though, only lasts for a few hour before the bipolar pain comes raging in and I find myself too depressed, in too much pain, or too anxious to do much of anything. In other words, midday, I know that bipolar pain is on its way. I know it’s coming.  I am anticipating my bipolar pain. But how do you handle it when you know that bipolar pain is on its way?

I’m a depressed person, or, if you like, I’m a person you suffers from depression. And, of course, I’m a person that writes and speaks about depression – a lot. So someone recently asked me, “Doesn’t talking about depression all the time make you more depressed?” Well, it depends on your perspective.

Help! I can't decide what to watch! I woke up this morning, after a raft of disturbing dreams, and I realized in short order I had some extra bipolar depression to deal with. I realized this when I sat in front of my television and couldn’t decide what to watch. Or if to watch TV at all. I had a whole whack of programs recorded in front of me and every one felt “wrong.” I stared at the TV. I stared at the computer. I couldn’t make the commitment to pick up the computer nor turn to a TV show.