The Higher we go, the Harder we Fall

Yesterday, I didn't study for French class like I was supposed to.
I sat, wrote, sat some more.
Let time pass as though it wouldn't cost me anything.
As though I had all of the time in the world
As though things wouldn't come crashing down on me.

I had a choice I could make.
I could study before work
at work
or after,
work.

I let time pass until there was no more time,
and I had to go to work.
That was my first choice.
Rushing out the door
I was in Robert's way, and he was in mine.
So I yelled.
I yelled and slammed the door
and I was gone.

He didn't chase after me either.
Not that I really expected him to,
only wished hard
that he would.
That the bus would slow down
that time would stop passing
and that Robert would catch up with me.

I had chosen to leave my books at home.
My second choice.
I didn't want to study,
and I didn't feel bad about it.
Not even a little bit.

And then time sped up and
work was over
work was done
and I was home.

Robert and I were yelling more
about the yelling that had happened earlier.
"I'm not going to say I'm sorry
'Cause I'm not even a little bit sorry
And I don't give a fuck
that you think you deserve it"


The beast was awake, and he was pissed

Maybe it was the beast
and his rage
that helped me to make my third choice.

I was going to do homework.
I was going to start something
and then finish it.

Robert went to sleep,
and I wrote.
I wrote a paragraph
and then another
and another.
And then I was done and it was great.

I turned off the lights and lay in bed,
buzzing, beating, pulsing
until I fell asleep.

That was at 2am.

This morning I woke up and I went to work. I got the grande white chocolate mocha that I get every Sunday from the Starbucks down the street. A little reminder to myself that a week is over and another one is on its way. I hung up my coat and started working. On any given day, I work hard at my job. I do the best I can with what I have at my disposal. Yes, it's Dairy Queen and yes it will not be the job I have for the rest of my life, but it is my job and I am capable of doing it. Some of you will never understand how important it is, when you feel so unbelievably out of control, to be reminded of what you can do. My co-worker Chelsea would chuckle each time I passed her in the kitchen, with something else in my arms and another task in mind. I didn't stop working until there was nothing left to be done, and then I studied. I have no memory of the time as it passed, or of the things as I did them. I noticed my hands shaking slightly, and my heart beating a little faster than usual.
When work was over, I sat in the cold waiting for the bus. It was cold, and I'm glad I was able to feel it. It is important that when I am manic I can feel my body, I am connected to my surroundings and I am aware of what is happening. I stopped at the store on my way home to pick up ingredients for dinner, and as I walked down the aisles I thought to myself, "Why can't everyday be like today?" I had been productive, I had been positive and it had lasted.
It is the hardest thing to remind myself that even though there are so many parts of mania that feel good, ultimately the result is disastrous. Mania is deceptive, because often it is when I'm manic that I am the most creative, passionate, outgoing, confident and full of life. It sweeps me up and out of the dark place I get stuck in, with my beast. It helps me to feel again, and I always welcome the change. I lose myself in it, and for a while the distraction is not harmful, if maybe just a little bit unnecessary. I let it carry me, like a current or strong wind. It is good, only until it isn't. Bipolar doesn't leave room for the in between. And often, there is no warning, no chance for me to prepare or circumvent it. I'm in the middle of full-blown mania, the eye of the storm, and then it catches me up in it and pulls me down farther than I ever want to go. And sometimes, farther still. Depression is my usual state of mind, and it is easy for me to forget there is anything else. But don't be happy for me when I'm manic, don't be relieved as I so often am. Hold your breath and hope that I'll be alright.

I came home and did the dishes. And it might be over, I can feel myself slowing down. I felt it as I sat down to write, and I feel it still.

I just hope I can study more for my test tomorrow.