The Road To Recovery

By myself. For myself.

It’s a mantra I’ve adopted since things melted down for me last October. I’ve taken a step back from a variety of social situations and interests, even moreso in the light of more recent events. It’s been made clear to me that despite the appeal of living in the moment and carpeing as many diems as possible, I’ve missed a few key points on being a fully functional human being. I’ve often gotten myself into situations that are unsafe or unhealthy for me (missing medication or drinking to excess), people I care about (the allegations of whatever is in those Safety Circle reports), or both (my marriages and last relationship). The road to recovery is is long, and I’ve stumbled many times along the way over the last couple decades, mostly because I keep losing my balance.

Now, I can definitely blame my disease for part of this. Bipolar disorder is an imbalancing factor, by its very nature. Times of extreme stress and change, missing a dose of medication, and all sorts of other factors can trigger a rapid cycle, change emotional stability to a mixed state or worse. While I’ve never myself broken a limb, I imagine that if I were to break my leg, it would take a long time to learn to walk on it again, and an accident or rough fall or bump could set my recovery back, if not re-break the bone. I’ve had both my heart and my mind broken, repeatedly, over the last couple years, and every time, I’ve had to take moments to learn to think properly again, to feel properly again.

By myself. For myself.

Since I’ve dedicated to this, I’ve pushed myself to be honest, with myself and with others, as much as possible. At times I have done so to the point of alienating or outright enraging people. While I know that a big contributor to my multiple mental and emotional breaks – to say nothing of the break-ups – it also seemed, at first, that I was going too far in the other direction. However, many of the encounters and conversations I’ve had since those troubling hiccups have yielded some amazing growth and even new friendships. Pulling the masks behind which I’d been hiding from my face hasn’t always been easy. At least a couple, I’d been wearing so long, they had all but fused with my face, and it was painful to peel them off. Living so honestly often feels embarrassing or even edgy, reinforcing the intensity I mentioned in my last post. But at the end of the day, when I’m left alone with myself, I do feel a sense of relief when I look back on things I’ve said or done over the course of the day, and found no trace of deception, obfuscation, or denial at any point. It’s never an easy step to take on this road, but it’s such an essential one. Because who will still want to be around me if I keep doing the self-deceptive idiocy that lead me to ruin so many times?

After all, even though I am making this progress, these changes, under that mantra – by myself, for myself – I do not have to face it all alone.

Many of my nights have been long and dark. Waking before the dawn to get onto a bus into the city perpetuates that darkness. And this says nothing of the often steely cast that can hang like a dark curtain over Seattle. I love this city – she’s truly my home – but at times, it can feel like a very desolate, very lonely place. In recent times, when darkness external or internal closes in, I take it upon myself to share my feelings, no matter how they might embarrass me or how weak it might make me feel, with at least a few friends or family, be they blood or chosen. And as difficult as it can be to be so honest so often, when people don’t necessarily want the entire raw truth, I have yet to have a bad reaction from those with whom I directly interact. Honest exchanges that are hard to hear or read, certainly, but not a bad reaction.

The problem with living entirely for oneself is that it’s very difficult to avoid one’s head ending up one’s ass. In addition to my mantra, something I’ve kept in mind is that swimming in one’s own shit is actually quite comfortable – it’s warm and you know where it comes from. But as I walk this road to recovery – by myself, for myself – I refuse to do so in such a way that has me immersed in my own bullshit. I want to be divided from my old failures, my shattered masks, and whatever it was that made me so difficult to stay and live with. In order to do that, I have to walk with my head up. I have to walk strive towards the light even if it seems darkness is all around. I have to walk this plank, no matter how it ends, with my eyes wide open.