i have been thinking as of late about attachment... about specifically the things we attach ourselves to... hmmm.. for that matter maybe the ideas & people too.. funny...
when i was 14 after several overpriced trips to several different doctors, i was diagnosed as bipolar. recognized as a disease in modern medical literature, it is when "the patient" swings from bouts of mania to severe bouts of depression.. there are about a gazillion variations on this tune. everything from mixed mania, hypomania... prolonged hypo/hyper depressive states.. etc... (it's kind of amazing in hindsight how many bullshit psychiatric terms we can coin just to diagnose what is essentially the human condition...)but i digress...
at the time i remember thinking Yes! Finally! A name, a label, a safe, stringent set of terms & descriptors that tell me what I am going thru!!! Halle-loo-yah! Thank ya Jeezus!!! and then you read on... in much of the literature (which is mostly aimed at helping others deal with & compassionately navigate the tumultuous waters of their manic-depressive loved one's state) you read about what happens to a person "under the influence", so to speak of a manic or depressive phase.... For Mania: anything from loss of sleep & appetite, to huge bursts of energy & creativity, visions of grandeur, rabid spending sprees... taking on large debts or massive projects.... And Depression, the ugly mole-faced step-sister: ... weight gain or loss, social isolation, withdrawing, inability to cope with the tasks of daily life, sleeping for hours on end... you get the bit. and somewhere in these lines, after the initial relief you find the slightest trace of... what.... well... i dunno.. i halt to put it into words... simply put the rational, sane, compassionate party reading said text is heartened to not take the actions of a bipolar person completely seriously or try to relate to them rationally during a manic or depressive episode (which begs the question... aren't they pretty much always in one or the other??!?) ... rather.. wait until a time when they are functioning in their "right mind" (and properly medicated, to boot) to try and reason with them.. and negotiate the inevitable fall-out of their hyper-manic or hyper-depressed states... much like you would choose your words with utmost care to speak to a child.. who has not developed the capacity necessary (so we believe) to digest your input straight from the tap, as it were, so too, for the manic-depressive we must weigh & water down our words... from such an altered state, they are unable to relate to you (the sane, salient, normal one, let's recall) in a rational, objective way. Huh.
This is fucking infuriating.
...
is this to say that my husband, who suffers from a hearing problem, needs special treatment, as it were, when relating to him one-on-one, mano-a-mano... teatime, coffeetalk style? does my sister, who suffers from the occasional bout of fatigue and a spot or two of psoriasis - must i choose my words carefully for her, knowing that she is under the influence of these things??? what of my friends who smoke cigarettes (which we know.. alters brain chemistry.... duh.. why else do it??)do i need to cater my speech to them, knowing that they are not functioning from an optimal place?
my neighbor has been known to get up at 1 o clock in the morning.. and start working on a project.. should i alter my context of conversation to him knowing that he keeps drastically different sleep patterns & modes of creativity than I do?
i have friends that watch a lot of TV (and don't Tell me that that shit don't alter your brain chemistry, folks... ha. ...) do they need a light hand when discussing the finer workings of things or the essential bits of life? ???
i have friends that do a lot of yoga, drink a lot of juice & spend a lot of time outdoors... maybe I should watch what I say to them as well....
There are times when readily don this diagnostic crown that I was given some 15 odd years ago. i lean into it. and heavy. at moments when I am down, unable to pull myself up from a slump of days or weeks.. wondering why life does not hold the joy it once did.. even a day, a week ago... why? i wonder? why is everything so effing hard? and then i remember.. oh yeah. this is part of that wave they were talking about.... "the depressive state" ..."all part of the disease" ... "this too shall pass".. I am Bipolar. ..so they say.
and then the Heights!!! the glorious, brilliant luminous heights! where words & thoughts, images, brilliance & compassion flow freely.. as if tapping the vein of some gorgeous body of Life.... full, fluid.. eva-frigging-nescent!!! and it is me... the truth of me.. this is who I am!! not that sad, sorry creature of a week ago who could barely rise from bed or muster much more culinary skill than burnt toast or leave the house... This - this lovingLife, glorious Byzantine creature that has emerged - THIS!!- is my truer nature. Surely. It must be. ...
and rather than let the wave pass thru me, around me, underneath me, about me... i ride it.. hard... trying like mad to grip the reins of this wild thing... to see if I can hold onto the feeling of Yes! of good. of bliss.. and let the bad drain away... but it isn't like that . That's not how we roll.
Into each life... a little rain... in the form of hearing loss.. disease, fatigue, odd & funny skin eruptions, weight gain, weight loss, cigarettes & alcohol, anger, frustration... Joy, elation, love, beauty... wheatgrass, twinkies, brown-papered packages tied up with string... these things... a little rain must fall..
It is the stuff of Life. and sometimes the rain is heavy & gray.. and bids you to stay indoors.. perhaps longer than is healthy or "good". and sometimes it's light & airy.. pliant & delightful... & smelling of earth & plants... inviting you to Dance & jump barefoot into puddles... it feeds the stream...
and there is no pill for this shit. there is no proper diagnosis. there is no cure. It is Life. and you can't take it all too seriously i am told. and you can't be afraid of getting utterly messy. and Wet.
and thank God.
and we do the best we can... and try, yes, Try... to not attach ourselves too strongly to any of it... our grandeur, our failings... our foibles.... our scars.. our demons... our Angels.... we keep moving... with an open heart (or as open as we can...) and stay the Vessel... that Life... in all its' vertiginous Beauty... can Occupy.
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