All I ever wanted as a kid was to be accepted. Red hair and freckles, plus being named after a song. I was ripe for the teasing. Not that every kid isn’t. I was just never given the tools to stand up for myself or believe in myself. The only place I ever felt strong was on a sports field. But life isn’t really soccer or tennis or swimming anymore. I can’t really escape into those worlds as I did 30 years ago.
Here I am. 40 years old. An adult. And still I crave acceptance. I just want someone to look me in the eye and say I love you just as you are in this moment, and the next. And if this moment you are manic and depressed the next…It’s okay. You are who you are. Please Don’t get me wrong, I am loved. Tremendously. Trouble is I can’t always feel it or believe it. Why would someone love a black and blue fanatic who can find no balance. Who swings from left to right and back again like a wild circus monkey. Who can’t hear your words correctly as they ricochet around the mind and become convoluted. Who misunderstands and rises up in anger and self defense wrought with agitation at the slightest suggestion I try to be more mindful.
A self righteous monster comes alive and makes accusations, casts blame, doubts anyone could ever understand what I’m truly going through, how I truly feel, what’s really happening on the inside. No amount of mindfulness can fix this massive gaping emotional wreckage of past present and future. I am simply a lost cause. The world. You. Me. Would be better off without me. No one needs an out of control manic depressive wreaking havoc in their life.
I am waiting to have my stitches taken out today. I think I should wear a hat to cover myself at work or out in the world. I don’t think you should have to look at me, my black and blue eye. Somehow it seems unfair for you to have to stare at it while we talk. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Blah blah blah.
Let’s get real. I am so fucking uncomfortable right now. It’s me who doesn’t accept me. I feel like a fool. A failure. You can see the consequences of my manic episode, of having bipolar disorder. And……..if I could only embrace the fanatic (young and old) with open unconditional arms I might be in a lot less pain. If only I was shown the way oh so long ago.
123 RV, SA, RW, JZ, JW!