I am beginning to appreciate the uniqueness of my rapid bipolar cycles. The ups and downs come and go, always with the same warnings signals, leaving me feeling the same way every time, completely predictable in my unpredictability. Which I really kind of like!
I have down cycled to my “middle” zone with a dash of depression thrown in for a bit of flavor. There is a nasty stomach bug that’s going around and I caught it. This is the first time I have been sick since my breakdown.
Experiencing illness with my new “bipolar shades” on is quite intense. My body hurts every day anyways but the illness has brought it back to the light of day. The pain I thought I knew quite well has taken shape and detail that I didn’t know was possible. Damn my ability to acutely describe every last grievance I have with my body. Calling attention to the tiniest details of pain is so painful, it is stupid. I wish I could stop doing it right now. But alas, my writer’s brain ever seeks to define and question my experiences. Bleh!
Part of the mental shield I put up daily dulls my pain enough that I’m able to cope without needing to bother people with my complaints over how much pain I’m constantly experiencing. Getting sick has torn down my ability to block my pain at all. I forgot how good I was at dulling the mind blowing pain that wracks my body. I forgot how far I had to fall when I didn’t constantly strive to be around people. I forgot just how bad life can truly get. Or I chose not to remember. Either way, another good reason to down cycle. Easy to forget that which haunts you.
So it is with a heavy heart I accept this illness ridden, sappy, morose, too realistic down cycle. I enjoy my mania and love my hypomania. But I recognize I can get my head too far in the clouds. It’s always good for me to come back down and realign myself with present circumstances, reality, and redefine where I stand. Rather than continuing my overly idealistic and underly realistic “end game” line of thinking I’m prone to in my up cycles.
So where does that leave me?
I still want to change the world. I’m still that kind of crazy, even when my body isn’t going like a machine. I still feel that I am meant to do something big. Bring about sweeping changes to our world.
Reality check: I can’t do anything until I get my shit back together. As much as I want utopia, how do I tell people to listen to me about a brighter future when my own outlook is rather bleak? The truth is I can’t. So I need to start putting money where my mouth is. Literally.
I need to find a way to make a life being 100% true to myself. I still believe society tramples out individuality in order to promote and continue our hierarchical social structures. Part of my “end game” plan is to show people there is another way to live life without sacrificing yourself or your relationships to loved ones, without sacrificing your true hopes and desires, and without fear. Life is love and you should never fear that which sustains you.
In a small sense I have started this. I have found someone who loves and believes in me enough to allow me to stumble towards freedom of self. He protects me from the world by keeping a roof over my head, comforts my body with food, love, and laughter, and always, always, always praises my soul for daring to dream. He actively builds me up so I can be better than I would ever be on my own. Constantly looking over my shoulder, questioning my thoughts, making sure I’m staying safe. He’s a real life guardian angel, walking beside me as I struggle to turn the tide.
His complete yet completely insane love for me gave me the strength to further solidify my world. I removed from my life all of the illusions of relationships I had clung to for so long. Family members who use their love as a free pass for unending mental abuse and drama. Gone. Friends who have no time to be friends. Gone until time changes. Disrespectful and judgmental acquaintances. It’s as if they never existed.
My world now consists of people whose mere presence fills me up with warmth and love, rather than stress and worry over what attack will be next. I look forward to the next time I talk to my people. Often feeling I don’t get to talk to them nearly enough. What a change!
With my relationships under control and the control and understanding I am gaining with my bipolar episodes, I feel I am ready to start looking outside of my body and my home for ways to incorporate my new life back into society without bending an inch.
My family suffers every day I am not whole. I feel the sacrifices they are making for me to rebuild myself every day. Not living with the only people I call family is devastating. Not fulfilling my life’s duty to provide for their well-being is crippling. Desperately needing to be around my loves while simultaneously needing total distance from them is absolute insanity. To give in now would make their daily sufferings meaningless and my endless torture without purpose.
In my distance, my solitude, I have come to find myself and respect my uniqueness. One of my unique qualities is an ability to create what I think about. Words, drawings, photos, videos, parties, homes… Anything really.
I consider myself a “pretty maker”. It’s a vague term but my talents are diverse so it’s easier to understand this way. I like to make things look good, feel amazing, and evoke good times.
I can throw fully immersed themed parties, decorate houses, create art, fix issues around the house, clean the most disgusting of messes, organize clutter in remarkable time, write eye catching resumes, build crafts for children, and any random thing I set my mind to. The sky is the limit when I’m given free reign to create.
I love to work. I love to help. I love to be free. You would think I could effortlessly create a living working within my capabilities, but alas society does not allow for free thinkers and certainly does not allow them an easy go at life. And so I start for real. Thirty years old and I am going to start showing my children what living your dreams truly means.
I put down relationships that didn’t value my sanity, friendships that didn’t desire my companionship, and a way of life that doesn’t compute in my brain. Step 1 is complete. I have people who I can trust to walk with me in respect as I create a new life for myself.
Step 2: Start living the dream
Living the dream for me is all about loving myself while breathing. When working through problems, my plan of attack always starts with what I am certain of and branch out from there. In this problem, I started with myself.
I’ve learned to love myself. I learned to love the home I created. I am working to create lifelong relationships that grow and nurture the soul through the years. Now the bigger world. Work.
I need to love my work. I need something I love so I will always have the motivation to work. What do I love more than anything? Myself. So my work needs to revolve around me. Shocking….
My art and my writing come to mind first. To provide for my family doing what comes naturally and feels so completely honest would truly be living the dream. And so I am starting.
I am looking to sell my work, my soul, to those who would appreciate its beauty. I have only taken baby steps down this path, but I have never been more excited.
I love to connect to people. I love to create. How amazing would it be if I could take care of my family by creating connections to people?
Who knows? But the sky is the limit and I am itching to fly.