Emotions: A Capsule Collection

I’m sitting in the bathtub that I outgrew over twenty years ago in my childhood home, where I am fortunate enough to be able to run to whenever I feel the burning need. Today I burned. I needed to be held. Not held exactly... More like steadied. Stabilized. That’s what I came here for and it worked like it always does.

(Astrology divas are screaming about the cancer new moon and OMG I KNOW. She is so on.)

About a month ago I lowered the dosage of the medication I have taken the last three years for Bipolar 2 disorder, and today was the first day I felt inklings of the way my mind used to work creeping back in. I tried to extend a warmish welcome… “Oh hi, it’s you. Feel free to stay for a while just don’t move in, ok?”

My hope for this experiment is that, armed with the tools I didn’t have (or wasn’t able to use) when it was all too overwhelming, I can create space in my life for the symptoms that may come from time to time. And that maybe by creating the space for them to run their course in a safe way, they won’t consume me. My life looks a lot different than it did pre-diagnosis*, and I have often wondered if my former circumstances were the perfect breeding ground for this gene to become triggered. Maybe it’s just my brain chemistry and it is what it is, but luckily I have access to medication that works really well with minimal side-effects.

I think it’s really common for people to come off their meds when they’re feeling better and then get back on them once they realize that they truly need it. I might wind up being one of those people. In fact I tried this already, back in January (which is a very bad time to come off of mental health medication because you’re already in the collective mini existential crisis that is The New Year) and I only lasted a few weeks. The slightest taste of the old feelings and I was OUT. But it was such a rich time for healing because of that that experience. I was like, wait why is this so impossible for me to sit with? I know that my life is not in need of any major upheaval, so when the dreads speak up it doesn’t have to mean total anarchy.

They make me SO uncomfortable, but that’s because in the before times— beneath their panicky rage-filled cries— there were a lot of truths that were desperate for my attention. Listening to them meant facing the cracks in the foundation of my life, and I was not prepared to rebuild just yet.

Nowadays the mania slips beneath the radar a bit more easily. MY LIFE IS REALLY GREAT! (Yeah, it is.) I LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH (because I do). THE WORLD IS IMPROVING! (Positive affs are always permitted). ADD TO CART! (Mmm ok but maybe sleep on it? Oh you already bought it. Ok.) It’s just this side of too much (or so I like to think…?) and it has some truths to share as well. My life really is great… I feel that I am in a personal golden age. I really love everyone in my life so much. Not a bad seed in the bunch. And I do believe the world is improving in spite of everything, because we are all here and so are all the dogs and cats and pretty things and places and there’s still lots of grass and musical theatre to touch. And we are all really, really trying. Also I was being cheeky I don’t really add to cart. I shop at dirty flea markets and environmentally unfriendly designer shops, or else not at all. Which is the retail equivalent of Bipolar 2.

I like to explore both the inner and outer worlds but I refuse to be reckless about it, which is a way I learned how to be only recently. Today I found myself in some unpleasant territory, but I spent years exploring every jagged edge of its topography, and so I knew my way around. I had found my way out before and knew I would be able to do it again. The main thing when you’re lost or stuck is not to panic, and then you just be patient and don’t give up. I know I’ll make it to the other side.

And that’s exactly where I find myself: on the other side in this lukewarm, too-small bathtub. From here I can see that yes, there is some tidying up to do in my life. I still have places where the growth has been stunted from not receiving enough light. And honestly, that’s ok. When the dreads speak they speak all at once, talking over each other and yelling so loud as they fight for my attention. They all want their thing handled first. And some of them I’m not ready for yet. Others just need to be prayed and chanted about rather than strategized over. Then when it’s time, I can take action from a place of (mostly) calm.

For now, I will strap this sense of home to my back like a little crab so I can carry it with me wherever I go.

*they don’t like, test you for it. It’s kind of just a questionnaire.