Ring a ding-ding. I don’t know if it was the afternoon of Downton Abbey, the pizza, my morning swim, or just a shift on the bipolar matrix, but I’m no longer feeling like the stuff on the bottom of your shoes. At least for today, and I’ll take it. People don’t irritate me, the sun is nice to see (not something to run from), and my smiles and laughter are genuine.
I made that phone call to Addiction Central yesterday. Of course I couldn’t speak to Heike; she wasn’t available. And I got damned irritated at the receptionist when I tried to give her first my name and then my phone number. But…according to my brother (the best full length soul mirror I have), I relaxed afterwards. I’d done something, taken a step in the right direction, and my anger and irritation over the whole matter were easier to let go. Still haven’t heard back from her yet (great response time, eh?). Although I find the entire idea of waiting on her beck and call to deliver the coup d’etat unsettling, I did (once again on my brother’s advice) turn off my phone during my morning language lesson because I can at LEAST control that – and it felt good. It also felt good to realize that I’ve got the postal address of Heike’s office, so if she dicks around and doesn’t call me I can just write a letter. Actually, that option is SO attractive to me that I find myself really hoping it happens. I may turn off my phone just to MAKE it happen…
And I’ve something else to confess. I’ll say it first, then give my excuses, reasons, and justifications.
I’m smoking a joint. Right now.
The state I was in two weeks ago…Nothing else to call it but beserker anger. Off the deep end. I knew it at the time but couldn’t stop it. And as usual, when I go THAT far on the scale of fury I do and say things as fringe as my mind. No one said I had to quit entirely. Everyone said I should slow down. My interpretation? Fuck ya all, I’ll quit for fucking forever you bastards, you bastards. I’ve actually got no justifications or excuses for that. I did it. It’s that base-line reaction, that unending wrath that I just can’t control. It pounced on me and really shook me around in its teeth. And I’m not saying it’s over; it’s NEVER over. I know it will come back and hit me again, probably when I least need it.
It’s one of the reasons I know I’m not mentally healthy.
But at least I’m at the point where I know I’m out of control. I didn’t outright stomp on anyone IRL. Even when I walked out of my GP’s office I did so without screaming, yelling, or slamming doors. That’s much better than I would have done, say, thirty years ago. Or even twenty. Or ten. In fact if I think about it, I’m making great progress.
It probably didn’t sound like it out here. And I know it was bad. I’m sure my GP thought/thinks it was bad, despite the WORLDS of progress I’ve made. Compared to the
sheep norm, yeah, it was way off the bell curve. On the Beeps curve, it was waaaaay below extreme.
And thankfully, it was fast.
For the record, I did not smoke my way out of it. The J sitting in my ashtray is the first since quitting. And it will be the only one today.
I will not smoke tomorrow, either.
But I WILL relax my stranglehold on myself.
I guess that means I’m not hating myself so much today. My thoughts return to kindness towards myself. Not directed thoughts purposefully turned that way to stop me from killing myself (or others), but impromptu thoughts given freely and with love. Yeah, love. I can go all gooey on myself once in awhile.
Of course I’m afraid this is just a little atoll in an ocean of pain and self loathing. And maybe it is. Today the sea swell is low, and I can live here for a time. No telling when the next storm will pop up. That is the nature of my life. But today smiling is sweet. I will smile and smile, and try to remember in my very bones how good and right it feels. I always try to stock up on good feelings. Kind of nonsense, because it seems to never really work. To NOT do it, though, seems sacrilegious.
And yeah, that’s how I feel. Being out of the jaws of that fury IS sacred to me. Not sure if I should be down on my knees in obeisance or jumping up and down with joy. But the release from that pressure does make me want to give thanks to whom- or whatever. I’ll even thank my bipolar brain.
Speaking of thanks, I want to take the time to express my gratitude to Lola and drewdarko23. You two were right there for me, every day. Reading my words, liking my posts no matter how foul I got. You’ve no idea how much that meant to me, how much it kept me going. During the very worst of it, you two were the reason I kept posting. Anytime you need to talk, let me know. I’ll move mountains to be there for you.
One hundred pounds lighter in spirit, I move on. May the worst of your today be the best of your yesterday. Remember to give a little. Of your time, yourself. It can mean so much.