I've decided I must have been a clown in some prior time because my life has become a series of balancing acts.
Thanks to bipolar I'm constantly balancing my sleep and my mood to ensure I don't get too energetic and head into mania or too inwardly focused and depressed. It's a balancing act every day.
Thanks to MS I'm constantly balancing my energy, using spoon theory, to ensure I have enough left for Rachel and Mike and to get to bed. It's tricky and annoying. And it has to be balanced with my mood to ensure my frustrations don't cause depression.
Then there's the literal balancing that I have to do everywhere I walk; I bounce off walls and door frames thanks to my sight and stability problems. I have to consider, when I'm at home on my own, whether it's safe to walk up stairs, and almost every time it's not. There's no way I'm going to risk Rachel walking in and finding me on the floor.
I'm balancing the light and the dark; the exercise and the energy; the hope and the expectation; the fear and the worry; the wellness and the illness, the head and the heart.
What a life.
But at least it's a life.
And it could be much worse.
So I'll keep smiling.