Push and Pull

I can't let myself process the feelings that I should be feeling right now. Heartbreak, fear, sadness, alone. With graduation less than six days away, there is too much at risk. It's strange how the body knows this instinctively. It shuts down. Feeling numb. Survival mode.

I consider myself a forgiving person, especially of people I love. I'm not claiming all the credit though. I attribute it mostly to my poor memory.  Maybe I just block it all out. Regardless of why, as time ticks on, anger fades, and thoughts and memories are pulled out with the tide.

There are things I cannot tolerate; verbal and physical abusive behavior top the list; the rest are variations thereof.

• Those who put me down because of who I am -- a queer, bisexual, bipolar, feminist woman.
• Those who do not respect the space around my body, my boundaries, and my word

Of all the things to remember, these are imperative. Yet, I continually find myself in situations in which these come to play.

It stops here. I will tattoo this in my brain if not on my skin. I have let my soul be beaten down too many times. I will no longer be pushed, put down, disrespected, and told that I did this to myself. The only reason I am to blame is for putting up with it thus far. What may seem like an insignificant action has lasting effects on the soul. There is no excuse. Ever. I will no longer be a pushover.

Breaking habits is hard. Especially when your addiction is a person. The comfort of knowing someone is there. I have done this dance too long. The push and pull. I thought it was over. It is apparent that it's not.

Transmission Repeat (a poem)

NO ONE CAN COMMUNICATE THEIR PROBLEM.
WE CAN'T ARTICULATE A SOLUTION.
SO WE JUST YELL OUR PERCEPTION,
AND BLAME EVERYONE ELSE.
NO ONE FIXES THEIR PROBLEMS.
SO WE ARE DOOMED TO REPEAT THEM.
 

The B Word

       I think I have finally found the puzzle piece that has been missing out of my life the past 5 years. It has been a constant roller coaster ride, with lots of loops and dead drops. I would have asked myself why, but I thought it all was normal.

       Being diagnosed with bipolar is strange. Unless in an intense manic or depressive episode, it's hard to believe. Imagine someone telling you that you are not in control of how you feel. In that case, Is any emotion authentic?

       I was diagnosed a little over a year ago. I have spent this past year running from the word. "Bipolar." It was definitely not a word I would have ever used to describe myself, despite my sometimes "crazy" life. I didn't tell anyone but my mom and girlfriend. Even then, I just told them that I went to see this crazy psychiatrist. "You'll never believe what she said." I put it behind me, and went on with my life.

       Anyone who knows me knows that my love life has been anything but stable. Regardless of how hard I try, I can't seem to keep a steady relationship -- with anyone. This sadly includes my friends. I'd gotten this far by blaming everyone around me: my girlfriend with her anger and commitment issues, my flaky friends, you name it. Even when my gf began to work on her problems, and started to become the person she always wanted to be, I pushed her away, not wanting to evaluate my own demons.

       This past summer, I decided to bite the bullet, and really spend time working on making a relationship work. It was something that I had pretended to do for quite a while. After 3 years of pretending, it was time to make it work, or move on. I owed it to my gf to let her go if I couldn't love her.

       The first few weeks were amazing. I accessed a deeper love. A love that I never even knew I had in me. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I doubted if it was even sustainable; the term "honeymoon period" haunted me.

       Sure enough, some fights arose, followed by more happiness, and more fights. Despite the fighting, this period was characterized by an overall hopefulness, and the clearing of the haze that surrounded my future. These were feelings that I hadn't felt since we met.

       The fights began to increase in duration. Even when we were "happy," I was miserable. I didn't understand. It had only been a little over 3 months since my summer resolution. That's when it hit. The familiar depression. Sleeping began to take priority over everything. I had to fight the urge to skip classes, quite my job, and resign myself to my cold bedroom, comfy covers, and endless dreams. I realized for the first time that I had a problem.

I began to think back...

       - 5 years ago: I stopped taking medication when I graduated high school in an attempt to liberate my body, and become straight edge vegan.

       - I had my first major depressive episode. Couldn't get out of bed, didn't know what day it was. It was bad.

       - My anxiety and continued depression got so bad that I dropped out of the college that I was attending and moved back home. After 6 months, I decided to move to Austin.

       - Anxiety still ruled my life. The only way I maintained control of myself was controlling everything I could around me.

       - After 10 months of living in Austin, I began to feel a change. "Something is coming," I wrote in my diary. It was going to be my worst manic episode, and would leave a wide path of destruction.

       - After that, I gave up watching the ups and downs of my life in favor of experiencing the roller coaster. Which included numerous, and sometimes infamous, fights.

       - Almost a year after my manic episode, depression hit when I found out that my ex was seeing someone else.

       - A years later, I dropped out of school yet again. I didn't give a fuck.

       - I pulled myself out of it. I had convinced myself years ago that my problems with depression, and anxiety were over, but something was off. I decided to see a psychiatrist. She was the one who diagnosed me with bipolar.

       - Now, a year later, just as I'm settling in, and finally ok with where my life is heading, the big bad wolf comes knocking on my door.

       This time, I'm not going to let it ruin all that I've worked for: my college career that's about to produce a diploma, a healthy relationship, and my plans to move. Sometimes, I want to give up, but I'm gonna fight this sucker. With an appointment on the books to see a psychiatrist in 13 days, all I can do it try and keep my resolve until then. Oh, and try to keep my life from crumbling down on top of me.

       M