A young woman named Kristen Griffin has just totally inspired me today with her writing.
Please do have a peek:
"It’s been a little over two months, a massive church wedding (we’re already married, but not according to God or our families), a ridiculous number of therapy sessions and medication check-ins. Truly, it’s slightly hysterical, that according to my medical professionals, I’ve reached normalcy, whatever in the hell that means. Apparently, they seem to think that I’ve reached a balance and that, somehow, qualifies me as “experiencing the expected range of accepted emotions.” But, really, what it means for me is that I feel absolutely numb, frustrated and most of the time, useless. Though I’ve been told over and over again, by my medical experts and even my husband, this is how normal people experience life.
My reactions are normal. My emotional temperature is with in the expected range. My work output is normal.
Normal. Normal. Normal.
To me, that’s become a four-letter word, a blasphemous utterance that ought to be accompanied by fire, brimstone, locusts and least of all, the four horsemen. As I’ve alluded to in my other bio, besides being born with Bipolar Disorder, I’m also going through General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD). The separation between my natural condition and those that I’ve developed over the years may partially to blame for my emotional state being down graded to normal. In order to conquer and ultimately recover from the traumas I’ve experienced in my life, I totally and completely understand the frantic nature my medical team has undergone to keep my Bipolarness under control. That isn’t to say that it hasn’t reared its ugly and nasty head during the dark depths of talk-therapy. Frankly, my swings between the bliss and productivity of mania to the hell of depression are even more dramatic than before my therapies began. And, to be quite honest, more terrifying.
As I’ve been going through therapy to conquer my demons and those so nicely provided by others, I’ve experienced the highs and lows that are almost too extreme to talk about. And, then, the rest of the time, I’m normal.
That pisses me right off.
Along with creativity and chaos, the light and dark, the genius and insanity is rape, torture and abuse. Somewhere there’s a balance. Somewhere there’s hope. Somewhere there is a place in which I’ve recovered enough from my past lives that I can directly, succinctly and rightly deal with being Bipolar.
Until then, normal it is."
I know what she means about feeling 'normal', that line in the middle called stability, trying not to fly to high above it or too low below, but if I don't weave between the line then would I not be deemed dead? Flatlined does not = a balanced life. It triggers so many questions about mood and where we are along the lines of stability, supposingly safe from mania and depression. Sometimes I even scoff that I speak of my 'condition' in these terms. I have a mood tracker and it is all over the place, ranging from majorly high at one point in the day then low in another. You have to take into account life's events; a fight with your spouse or a bad day at work are enough to make anybody swing from one end of the spectrum to the next. I know what she means about being a high functioning bipolar-ette. I too understand why people are concerned, but it is frustrating being under the microscope. Will I laugh too much or too loudly? When I shake too much at the dinner table pouring a glass of water, then what will they think of me? Should I care? I seem to anyway.
Thanks for sharing Kristen, before reading this I would have gone another month without finding the will to write.
Kristen and Andrea (Bipolar Babes)