I think I may be in a manic swing. I didn’t realize it until now, but I sat at work yesterday, accomplished “professional” work, and wrote three posts. A total of 3,460 words. I don’t know the last time I was this productive, with so much of it being what I enjoyed, instead of the “busy” work we fill our lives with from 9 – 5. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I wrote that many words, 8.7 pages to be exact (thank you Google), that quickly, and felt good about it.
Maybe it’s because the words are now out there, wherever this rabbit hole of the internet leads. I can feel anonymous and write and not give a damn. Not care about being judged for my life or the guilt I carry or the darkness that I sink to at times. I can get some of the madness out of my head and purge it. Because I’ve done some shitty stuff. Maybe you have too, but don’t want to admit it. But here, behind the wall of my computer screen, I can let all the secrets out. I can admit to the failures and memories that have shackled me down for so long. Maybe my journey or words will allow you to let go of some of what you mistakenly thought was “wrong”, when all we can really be is human. And being human means being fallible.
Yup, I think the roller coaster is churning its way to the top of the ride, just before it plunges back down again. I hate roller coasters, but I love this feeling of mania – the headiness, as if watching the world through the effervescence of champagne. I don’t know how long it will last. It might be gone in a day, an hour – the coaster will plunge down the incline and darkness will descend.
But while it’s here I want to party with it. I want to thank it first, for coming back. And for taking over my fingers and getting me in the flow. I was at work by 6:30 AM this morning…I woke at 4, and and before I knew it I was ready to head in to the office, so I figured, why the fuck not? I can get comp time or leave early, and with my partner here, I can’t really do that much in the morning anyway, as I keep the apartment dark so he can sleep. I can’t work out, so that gives me an extra hour and surfing these days is often depressing so I find I have little tolerance for it as I drink my coffee. Thus I went about my morning rituals, and with the mania allowing me to be highly efficient I was ready to face the day before the morning light had even begun to streak across the sky. This is usually what happens when my neurons start firing in the way I want them to, and I feel that the world has once again become my oyster.
I love being manic. I live for these occurrences, when my dear friend comes to visit, because it does not happen as often as the depressions and for a moment, or a day, sometimes even a week, I feel unbreakable. I feel unstoppable. If you are bipolar, you understand what I mean.
I never want this to end. I don’t want the roller coaster to peak and drop. I want to fling my arms open to the world and tell it I am back. It’s a sensation similar to being buzzed after a drink or two, when you feel nothing can stop you, the atmosphere around you is wrapped in bright neon and you love everyone and everything about life. As an introvert, alcohol is the only thing that allows me to socialize without dealing with the anxiety that is lingers around every corner. So, today I feel buzzed (although I am sober), but I feel my introversion is not as prevalent as it usually is. I feel alive and have the ability to breathe, after months of feeling like I am drowning or being strangled. For the moment, for as long as it lasts, I am going to take complete advantage of it.
Perhaps having my partner here has stabilized me enough to get to this place. But I don’t think so. As previous mentioned, this has been a trying visit. We are on different schedules and he is dealing with his own demons, which he refuses to share with me – because he does not want to think about them. It bothers me immensely, because I rely on the physical contact that we usually have – wrapping ourselves around one another all night long. But he has been staying up far later than I and by the time he comes to bed, I am deep in slumber assisted by the sleeping pills the shrink gave me after I told her I hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour and a half each night for two months – due to back pain. Because I have dealt with insomnia all my life, sleep is something I treasure when it happens. I did not think I would have to take the pills while he is here, because he has always been my human sleeping pill as I have been his. But with his distance and distracted mind, I need them to shut him out, to shut out the questions that are lingering in my head of whether we will last, and sleep for at least 4 to 6 hours, while he stays up late in the living room, working or watching a movie. Once again, I feel that my value to him is the business advice I can offer him when he asks, and my vagina which is always on his mind.
I don’t know if he is still angry with me, because of my drinking when he was not here. I am sure it is simmering somewhere beneath the surface and perhaps that is where the distance is coming from. Although I do not want him to leave, which he will in a week, I am also exhausted by our trying to co-exist in a 600 square-foot apartment when the silences, that have never existed between us, hang heavily in the air. Now that my mania has set in, I have a strong desire to be alone and not “fathered” by him every night when I light a joint, which has become my after work “drink” for the last several years. I don’t want to be told how I should be living my life – from how I deal with issues at work, to my nutrition (which is horrid – food is such an afterthought in my life), to how I spend my free time. He is an extrovert, but he does not interact with people on a daily basis, since he is self-employed, and thus when I get home each day, my energy drained from having to deal with humans for 8 hours, he is a bouncing ball of wants, needs, and activity.
But I don’t want to think of him now. I want to think of me. I want to be selfish and embrace the feeling of weightlessness that is bubbling up inside me. If he were not here, I don’t know where I would be – where my mind would be. But right now, in this state, I desperately want to party, to live, to embrace life and damn the consequences. And that’s what the mania is – isn’t it? The desire to live completely, as much as possible, before the darkness returns. It is almost a panicked feeling – the uncertainty of not knowing how long I will feel this good, compiled with how shitty I will feel when the depression returns.
So I am taking this. I am on an impatient racehorse waiting to get out of the gate in order to run as fast as possible down the straightaway and feel the rush of endorphins and freedom and yes, happiness. Something that has been missing from my life for what feels like years. The clock is ticking and I can feel the anticipation of the gate being released and the feel of the wind in my hair and a great beast underneath me, taking me on a heady journey. I desire the racetrack to be a long one. Because I don’t want to go back into the shadows yet. I want to bathe in the sun.
© Sorrow & Kindness