You are poetry-- your words distilled, your personality fiery with a fierceness that I both love and fear. Elusive, I find you in the briefest moment between sunset and full dark when the sky's inky violet. Far off down my one lane country road, a pair of headlights comes careening. I step off to the side step into the rows of corn and hide until the lights flash by me, standing in the high corn until my eyes readjust and I hear the car backfire as it rides the bend. I'm halfway to the dairy farm a mile down the road. The sycamores are white as bone. Above and between them, bats slash the summer air with their chaotic flight, diving and twirling dark shadows that dip too close about my head. It is summer and you, you are oil to my water, rising--always rising above.
Sometimes it feels like the Bipolar is destroying me. Sometimes it feels like I'm losing all control. Today is one of those days. I'm on medication, which has been (literally) lifesaving. I've gone from sleepless nights and long manic trips followed by debilitating bouts with depression to a more mellow, more leveled out kind of me. Lately, however, it feels like the Bipolar is winning. I think it may be time to adjust my medication again, because the insomnia's getting worse, and I feel like I'm losing myself, losing the good parts of me under all the tension, the anxiety, the frustration and the roller coaster moods. When things are stable, when I feel more in control, I'm not so angry and irritable, not so mad at life, not so jealous of people who aren't Bipolar I, people who don't have to fight the demons I have to. I want to be able to be both stable and passionate, both emotional and in control. What I don't know is if that is even possible. I heard somewhere that living with Bipolar I requires a lifetime of tweaking the medication, of going to therapy, of avoiding triggers and trying to be healthy. I suppose, for me, that's been true. I was diagnosed years ago, and I've been going to therapy religiously, taking my medication mostly non-sporadically, seeing my psych on a regular basis and refraining from indulging in any number of things that trigger episodes-- things like casual sex or drinking. I suppose I just needed to get some of this gunk out of my mind. I needed to put down in words that I'm irritated, that I'm frustrated, that I struggle to feel like I'm an okay person when the moods make me feel like I'm failing, like I'm always on the edge about to fall off. Today is a coping skills kinda day, a day when I screen my phone calls and order out, a day when I try my damnedest to be gentle with myself. It's going to be okay. I'm not suicidal. That's always a plus. I'll pull it together, and go back to my usual zany self. But right now? Right now I am going to curl up with some music and lock myself away from the world for a while.