Broken Perfection

My God. How do I handle this? My heart hurts. I have to refrain from saying the things I want so badly to say, because I'm pretty sure if he knew how I felt, he'd run... I think. That's where I'm torn. We've both been hurt before, both had our share of heartache. I know we're both scared. I *want* to let him know I'm here for him always, no matter what it is, no matter what he wants or needs. Even if he just wants me to sit in the same room with him, just to have someone there to cut through the loneliness. But how do I make him aware of this without putting myself out there, risk freaking him out, and having him walk away? I don't want him to be afraid of me... to think that I'm gonna hurt him the way everyone else has. I have never had such a pure, untainted feeling about someone before. It's even scary for me. At times, I have absolutely no idea how to handle it. Even at his worst, I would still bend over backwards for him. How in the fuck could I ever hurt him? We've been friends for a while now. But I knew how I felt about him, even then... but for certain reasons, I had to keep my distance. Right now, I don't really care about those reasons anymore. I'm happy around him. Sublimely happy. Even if he's feeling low, I still want to be around him. Because it's him. Just his presence alone means the world to me, and not being around him makes me feel like a part of me is missing. It pisses me off that we've both had such massive amounts of shittiness in our lives... to the point that we feel like we can't trust people, and we don't matter to anyone. Aside from my kids, my wifey, and a few family members and friends, he is one of the most important people in my life. We understand each other. I only wish I could make him understand that his friendship means everything... I would absolutely love for there to be more. But I'd rather have his friendship and say nothing, than say something and lose him forever.

The Wall

True love. Is there even such a thing? I know for some people, it exists. But, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm completely incapable of feeling it. I know I have loved before. But, true love? No. Not even close. At this particular moment, I'm feeling the spark of something I've never felt before, yet I keep it at bay. I'm unsure, lost, confused, and utterly terrified of letting down that wall to actually succumb to it. Letting my guard down even a little bit leaves me vulnerable. I know that with this person, I feel an strong desire to just be. It doesn't matter what we're doing. Being in the same room is satisfying enough. Physical contact is overwhelming at times and I constantly want to touch him, but I'm afraid to. I'm scared of needing him. I can't need him; I couldn't handle him not needing me back.

I honestly have no idea how I feel right now. Vulnerability is an understatement. He's a very close friend, and regardless of whatever happens, he always will be. He's one of the few people that truly understands me, because he's just as broken and fucked up as I am. I thought at first, that was the connection. It does play a big part of it. But, he's an insanely beautiful creature... inside and out. Everything about him. His eyes are like lasers, and when he looks at me, I can instantly lose my train of thought. He knows exactly how to touch me to make me melt completely... in a way no other damn person on this earth has ever touched me before. Just being in his presence calms me and turns my stomach into knots at the same time. All I know is that the way I feel about him scares the fuck out of me. Not just because of the intensity of it, but because I'm terrified that what I'm feeling is one-sided. I know he feels something. I'm just not sure if what he's feeling is strong enough to contend with all the other issues he has in his life. And that's okay. I will still be here for him. For however long it takes. Even if it never happens, I'm perfectly content just being in his life, being a constant, and loving him from afar.

So, my wall remains in place. A little bit shaky at the moment, but holding strong. I firmly believe that he is the one that's supposed to bring my wall down. But not until he's ready to; if he ever is at all.

The art of happiness...

Currently, I'm sitting in my chair at my second home (the wifey's), in the dark except for the glow of the laptop screen and the Christmas lights strung up the stairway banister. I'm pondering. I'm not entirely sure what I'm pondering, but I know my mind is flying at top speed right now. A thousand different things all at once. "Did I put the toilet lid down? What the hell was that building at the end of the finale of The Walking Dead? I want a popsicle. I should probably be going to sleep right now. I wonder if I should stop being so open with my feelings with some people and become more open with others. I wish I were laying on a beach somewhere. Did I put the bacon grease in the bacon grease jar? Fuck, I need a drink." I've been manic for 2 days. Diligently working on a project that popped into my head a little over a week ago. Honestly, I don't do commission work, because I have to do what's in my head. I can't be told what to draw or paint; it's something I have to feel. So, when ideas come to me, I try to harness them as best I can. This particular idea came to me while talking with this friend about something in particular that he was into. The idea formed in my head, and for 2 days, I debated even doing it. But I had to; it was one of those ideas that keeps nagging at you until you fulfill it. And who better to appreciate it than the person I was talking to when the pretty significant seed was planted in my head? I started painting it yesterday, using the color he had picked (he still doesn't know why he picked a color though). I've been so meticulous about this painting for some reason. I don't really know why, but I've put more care into making it as close to perfect as possible than I have put into any previous painting. I think it's because it's actually for someone, not just my own portfolio. I haven't completed a painting in so long, it's actually a pretty big step for me. Lately, I tend to either get bored with a certain piece or it isn't looking like what I had envisioned and I get frustrated and give up on it. But, this creation is being very good to me. It's about halfway completed and it's pretty damn close to the way I thought it would turn out. Tonight, though, I realized something. I'm not doing this painting for any reason, other than the thought of making him happy. Just to see him smile. That's all. And to know I did something to bring that smile to his face. That's when a true masterpiece can be created. :)

Ups and downs... and everything in between.

It's a tricky thing, that Bipolar demon. It's one of the few things in my life that is a constant, and although at times I feel out of control, I know the symptoms and I (usually) know how to handle them. The depression episodes can be draining, emotionally and physically, and I usually wind up feel suffocated; trapped within my own body in a seemingly worthless existence. The manic episodes are far more challenging, as I can become very overwhelming to a lot of people and these episodes usually result in me making incredibly stupid decisions. I cycle rapidly; my depression can lead to mania within a matter of a few minutes, for absolutely no reason at all and on a pretty frequent basis. I used to be on medication; an antidepressant/anti-psychotic combo, which is what's traditionally used to treat Bipolar symptoms. My last happy cocktail was Effexor XR (150mg, 3x/day) and Risperdal (10mg/day). This combo eventually lost effectiveness (as they usually do) and I lost my medicaid. I have been off the medications for about 5 months now, and at first I seemed to be doing okay. But, I'm noticing the symptoms and cycling creeping back, most likely as a result of extreme stress. Luckily I was able to get my medicaid back, now all I have to do is find a doctor (I haven't really had one since moving back to the Columbus area). I wish like hell I still had the doctor I had in Canton. He was the one of the best doctors in the Canton area for Bipolar treatment.

Now, for a little insight into the complexity of what I deal with on a daily basis...

In my depression episodes, I typically retreat and withdraw from everything. These will usually last for a few weeks. I become paranoid, irritable, highly fatigued, achy, and emotional. On these days, it takes everything I have to get up in the mornings. Literally. It feels physically impossible to move. The thoughts that go through my head during these episodes are usually morbid or dark in nature and I literally just want to be left alone. My paranoia usually pertains to my relationships with people around me; I feel insignificant, small, and worthless to everyone. I find myself second-guessing everyone and everything that people tell me. I even second-guess myself. Constantly. This phase makes my romantic relationships hard. I could be with the sweetest, most attentive guy, and still always look at him askew when he tells me how beautiful I am or how much he loves me (this is also a result of not being able to trust people easily after many years of trusting too much and getting walked upon).

My manic episodes can be far worse. Mainly because I literally have trouble seeing the consequences of my actions. I'm easily excitable, highly overzealous and extremely talkative. Pretty much like I've had about 13 cups of *really* strong coffee. My need for sleep becomes pretty much non-existent. Maybe 4 hours a night, if that. People tend to shy away from me at this point (aside from the people that know me, know what the cause is, and know to just ignore me) because I can be a little overbearing. I can just be sitting there and suddenly feel this rush, like an extreme state of euphoria. All of a sudden, I become some self-proclaimed superhero, able to anything and will stop at nothing. Everything makes me happy, and I feel young, almost childlike. These episodes tend to not last very long, however. Usually anywhere from a few days to a week or two.

I have periods in between of not really knowing how I feel. During those periods, I can have many mood swings in one day. I don't get crazy. I don't bite people's heads off (usually). It's more like I transcend my negativity and become slightly more positive; I become happy and content. Then something will happen to make me regress back into the unsure, negative state (even something as trivial as stubbing a toe or dropping a glass of water) and I start the whole process all over again. It's extremely annoying to say the least and very hard to cope with sometimes.

It is because of my Bipolar that I have problems maintaining personal relationships. I'm so all over the map, and people have a hard time keeping up and it frustrates them that I can't tell them exactly what's wrong when I have my bad days. They're just "bad days". There's no rhyme or reason to them and they can come and go in an instant, like a snowflake hitting a warm car hood. They just happen. And I'm sucked into a need to sleep all day, just so I don't have to face anything. Sometimes, I'll just start thinking about something traumatic or depressing that I've gone through and it just spirals out of control. Other times, it's nothing in general. I'm hoping that blogging will help me make some sense of my thoughts, and help me to pinpoint what triggers me the most.

Right now, I am with an incredibly sweet guy. We've only known each other for a short time, but he has been more than patient and very attentive. I feel like I can trust him. But what throws me off is that I've had that feeling before and wound up utterly heartbroken. If he gets quiet, I wonder why. If he sends short text answers, I think the worst. A part of me wants to end it just to spare myself the emotional turmoil just in case he decides to leave me later. That's what my Bipolar does. It leaves me to second-guess and fear the worst. On the meds, it's not that bad. Off the meds, however, is a different story. At least I know the origin of these feelings and I don't act on them or let them get out of hand (which is a struggle in itself). I also worry about what he'll think of me to witness my actual manic/depression episodes. He's only had a tiny taste of my depression phase. I can only imagine what he'll think of me when he sees me in full-blown mania. I desperately need my meds back. I refuse to let this illness destroy a potentially wonderful and loving relationship...

Not-So-Valentine's Day

So many things have been on my mind today, I decided to do something I've been thinking about doing for awhile now, to try and organize the overabundance of random thoughts I have floating around in my head. If most people saw what travels through my brain within a 24-hour period, they would either run screaming or pity me. It's not pretty in there. And today, Valentine's Day, I'm having an overload of overwhelming thoughts and emotions... blogging will be now be my way to handle things, in my own way. I have always been a writer of sorts, but I have neglected that gift a lot recently. Sometimes, my own thoughts scare me, and to put them down in written form is a silent confirmation of just how warped my mind can be. But, on this day in particular, I have an extreme urge to write... you'll realize why in a couple of minutes.

9 years ago today, I did something that forever changed my life. And not really for the better, although many have said that what I did was incredible and unselfish. I don't see it that way. The pain I feel as a result of my actions haunt me every day like a plague. A child was born and given to a couple that was less fortunate in the fertile sense (but incredibly fortunate in every other way). I carried this child inside my body for 9 months, gave him life, and protected him. Though it was a very incredible and surreal feeling to bless this couple with a child that they had tried for years to have, I am left with a void in my life that nothing seems to fill. I have 5 other children; 2 older than him, and 3 younger. I absolutely love kids. But, the circumstance in which he came to be is one I would rather forget; his father, an obsessive addict. We had been together for 4 months, and I had no inkling that he was this way until 2 days after he proposed to me and we found out I was pregnant. It was like he had been pretending to be someone he wasn't, to earn my trust and my love. I suddenly became smothered and felt trapped, as I would wake up 5 or 6 times a night to him sitting right beside me, intently staring at me to make sure I was still breathing and that I didn't go anywhere. He took my money for drugs. He stalked me once I moved out. There was absolutely no way in hell that I would bring a child into this world with this type of person as his father. There was only one choice I had, and I knew at the time that is was the right one.

From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I knew that this child was not mine to have. I didn't feel the same connection with him that I had with my first two (or that I had with the three that followed). Ironically I heard through a friend of a couple looking to adopt. The woman was unable to have children because of an illness she had as a child. They had tried the adoption process a few times before, but the biological mothers would always back out. So, I decided that this would be the couple to adopt the child that I carried inside my body. There was no hesitation, no remorse. I knew they desperately wanted him and I knew that he would be unconditionally loved and cared for.

On the day I had him, a cold and snowy Valentine's Day, 2003, I remember the first nurse to see me after his birth being amazed that I asked to see him at his next feeding. She looked at me with a hesitant glance. "Are you sure?" she asked me. I told her of course I was sure. So, she did just that. At his next feeding, she brought him to my room, handed me a bottle and placed him in my arms. He was incredibly alert and staring right at me. Now, I realize that newborn babies can't focus. But, something told me he was memorizing the outline of my face, like somehow he knew. He never fussed. I sat there and held him for the longest time, just looking at him and talking to him, and it was like he seemed to understand every word I was saying. I asked to be the only one to feed him for the duration of my stay at the hospital. This would be my only interaction with him, and I wanted to cherish every moment of it. He had no name at this point. As my friend was looking at him once while holding him, she said, "He looks like a 'Joshua'". So that's what we called him... Joshua was his name for the first 3 days of his life (he was given his legal name by his adoptive parents once they took him). After I was released from the hospital, I went back to see him a couple of times. I wanted to be the one there for him until they could pick him up. Since then, I've received some pictures and a few updates on how he's doing (through the friend that led me to them). He's now a happy, loved 9-year-old with sandy blond hair and a gorgeous smile.

Looking back, I know I did the right thing by him. He is in a stable, loving environment and has everything a child could ever want. It's the missing piece within myself that breaks my heart and, at times, threatens to consume me. Valentine's Day hasn't been the same for me since then. I don't talk about it much, only because it's been a difficult subject for me to approach without coming unglued. Ironically though, as more time passes, and my emotions about this run deeper, it's something that I feel the need to talk about. Sitting here now, upon the completion of this particular blog, I feel a weight has been lifted. I will forever bear the scars, but I believe my soul will eventually heal enough so that it doesn't hurt so bad. Happy 9th birthday, little man.