Comfort, not comfort

My daily routine is get up out of bed, read a little of the book I’ve got on the go then listen to some music as I get ready to go out.

I shop locally and have a gossip with the traders and shopkeepers I know. Most days I call in on a friend on the way home.

If I break the routine it’s because I’m away from home for a few days or I’ve taken off for a day to give one of my cameras some exercise.

I have a semi-ordered life; part of it is chaotic because I have bipolar disorder and part of it is more tightly controlled because I have bipolar disorder.

Since we began lockdown due to the Coronavirus (March 2020) I’ve been lucky enough to carry on my life pretty much as I usually do but, and there is always a but, it has triggered the eating disorder I have.

I am comfort eating things that don’t comfort me. Eating disorders are difficult to manage at the best of times and combined with bipolar disorder they are almost impossible to deal with. I have lost control over it and I am illogically disappointed in myself.

Acknowledging this and saying it out loud means that I am strengthening myself mentally. I can tell myself with confidence that this will change because it always does. And so I wait.

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