I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. As if my mood balanced precariously. A drink on a platter gliding through a crowded bar. Don’t look at it or you’re sure to spill.
He pulled his lips in, pressed them against his teeth. He wanted to respect my wishes. He also felt like this is something we couldn’t leave unaddressed.
“I know,” I said and paused. “Just not yet, okay?”
Feeling better doesn’t always mean you’re ready to delve into why you were feeling so bad. Sometimes you just have to focus on climbing out and not think about falling in.
She took another breath and changed the cross of her legs. “That being said, we need to start talking about medication. You have some options, but I’m not comfortable leaving this where it’s at.” Because all those diagnoses have very real, tangible symptoms attached to them. And bipolar disorder is one of those.
Bipolar disorder–for me–is like depression with a scheming side. I get miserable for a couple months, but then I feel pretty good for a few weeks. Just long enough that I start to think maybe my depression isn’t going to come back with force. But right when I’ve gotten comfortable, it sneaks in. Like a friend you were just starting to trust breaking your heart again.
My mania gives me just enough confidence to be dangerous. I sign up for things I won’t be able to follow through with when the depression comes back. It makes me just optimistic enough to line me up for a solid let down. Swings wide enough to make me feel like I’m never getting my feet under me. Narrow enough I can sometimes convince myself nothing is wrong.
We’ve known I have this illness since I was sixteen. It wasn’t extreme then, either. Since it wasn’t getting me in trouble it was left untreated. But over the last few years it’s been getting more violent. It’s been growing teeth. And so a couple weeks ago I made the call.
“Do you talk to your husband about how you’ve been feeling?” the woman from the psychiatric outpatient program at the Bellevue hospital asked me.
“Yeah, I do. He’s great. He doesn’t like those conversations much, though.”
“No, of course he doesn’t. You’re trying to kill his wife.”
I slid down the wall, landed slow on the ground and pulled my knees up to my chest. “It’s time to get help, isn’t it?”
So we doubled up the therapy. We added medication and adjusted doses. Took time off work and wrote for hours every day.
While getting ready I realize it’s another day I can’t wear mascara. “You’ll be sobbing later. I guarantee it.” I dry my hair and powder my face and leave without the coats of black I like the most. Looking just a bit off. Just a bit less put together than I like to be. Just a little bit different.
Maybe I think the dresses and the make up and the hair will make me feel like no one can tell I’m falling apart at the seams. Barely holding it together. Maybe I’m not actually as fucked up as I feel I am, and when I get ready in the morning I remember.
Remember. Remember that I know what it’s like to be okay. That I know what it’s like to not be hurting.
And Becka told me that your best looks different every day. And my guided mediation told me everything looks different every day. And Alyssa told me there is nothing wrong with me anyway.
There are no voids that need filling. That thing you think is emptiness is only there because you named it and you keep talking to it. You keep trying to change something that doesn’t exist, so of course it doesn’t seem to be working.
Every time you try, you draw more attention to it. It’s just like meditation in that way, isn’t it? How when you try to think about not thinking you just think more. When you get upset about getting upset you just get more upset.
All your feelings are compounding. They snowball. Pile up and drag us down. And you know that. So you start to feel like you ought to do better, be better.
But what if you could learn that you’re fine the way you are? That you don’t have anything you need to prove. That you’re lovable and worthy. That you don’t have to fix anything. That you’re okay.
That you are not a hollow shell. That you are ferocious and vibrant. That you are unbreakable.
Ruby Pipes 