Creation

5.8.19 ~ blog entry

Creation is beautiful. From the moment you first have an idea of something you want to create, to seeing it all the way through to its completion, it is an extraordinary process.

Think on this for a bit. In one moment, there’s nothing there, and in the next moment, there is existence. Poof, an origin.

Creation can be cathartic. One moment you’re flustered with writer’s block, and finally the sentence that feels right is typed on the page. You’re on your way. In the middle of the night, you can go to the refrigerator for a water and glance at the craft table and think to yourself that the yellows and oranges should be the predominant colors on the wreath. An hour later, you notice you never made it back to your bedroom, and you never drank the water, but the gorgeous wreath is now complete and ready to be hung in the living room or sold at next month’s summer festival.

Whatever it is that is your jam  – whether it be writing, making table centerpieces, cooking, singing, drawing, painting, photography, posting encouraging videos, fostering animals until they’re adopted – you are creating. Creating something of love and motivation and kindnesses to others. There was once nothing where there now resides something.

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That something, along with the smile that graced your face while you constructed it, is a thing of beauty. Let’s face it, we need more smiling and beauty in the world. I’m not going to get all sappy and tell you to stop and smell the roses, except wait, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Please stop and smell the roses. Please stop and look at the things you do well and feel the pride you deserve. Please stop and look at the things in your life that you created and smile. Then, go do more of it.

 

(image: barbaraannyoder)

Thinking About Dad

I’ve been thinking about Dad.

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For years, I’ve heard friends talking about their dads attending their high school graduation and walking the brides down the aisle. I’ve listened to stories about how much dads love their grandchildren.

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This and so much more wasn’t in the cards for me, as I was only 15 years old when he died.

On top of that, I heard some disturbing things about him after his death, which I now question. Not certain I believe what I heard based upon the source and that person’s past. Or maybe I just want and need to believe that person lied to me.

So, I’m left with a lot of questions. I was also thinking about what I did in the days, weeks and months after he died. How did I cope? Because I know I certainly didn’t cry much. Had I, I think I would have never stopped. So, I threw myself into sports and listened to a ton of music. One song I repeated over and over was Cold November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. I could probably sing you every lyric from memory. Like right now, if you’d so wish.

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So yeah, anyway, where am I going with this? Well, it’s more of a rambling tonight, I guess. I did realize a connection between my 15 year old self and my 42 year old self. Both of us turn(ed) to music and physical activity (even though mine is limited now due to health conditions). And I suppose that’s a good way of coping. And I’m learning to forgive, as well as asking to be forgiven. I find it a shame that so often it’s easier to forgive once the person has passed away.

Thanks for listening. Take care of yourselves and each other. ✌🙏💛

Hug your Dad. 💙

Pass the Asthma Inhaler, Please

Let me start by saying that I am blessed, and then let me tell you the rest.

I have a nice home. I have a nice family. And yes there are struggles. Some minor, some a little more urgent at times than perhaps what some other families go through daily. But overall I am blessed. This is my temporary home, and I look forward to the day of being in my permanent home with my Lord and Savior, and my family and friends.

Having said that, if you asked me to tell you the worst thing about having Bipolar Disorder, I would say it is a LIAR.

It just flat lies. You can try to fancy up some sort of elegant sentence that eloquently and precisely states that synapses over-fire, mis-fire, under-fire; damage to nerves in the brain; chemical imbalance, blah & etc, all absolutely true, by the way.

But what that boils down to is that I am being lied to, and often.

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Tonight, I feel utterly and completely alone in this world, and I feel weak, vulnerable and raw. I could even possibly be a danger to myself, but if I edge my way further to that point, I will get help from my family or BP support friends.

Tonight, I could tell you that no one cares. That people respond only if I reach out to them first. That people don’t seem to have a hard time missing me, as I miss them. That a loved one doesn’t mind sitting in the same house, or even in the same room, and doing something completely and utterly different and having nothing to do with me for days, even weeks in a row. I could tell you no one in this house knows what I’m feeling.

That’s completely ridiculous of course, because my son also has Bipolar Disorder, so right there I can rationally see that this Bipolar venomous gas is creating the dense fog that lies to me. The thing is, it’s convincing, and it’s manipulative, and it is hard to work my way free of it; to breathe in clean air and replenish my burnt, withering lungs. This is one of those nights, and right now the only thing that is working is the asthma inhaler.

This is me. Real. Being lied to and feeling crummy.

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Even with the Pain, You Gotta Live…

So, my friend is moving back to Texas. She will still live five or six hours from where I’m living, but I’ll still be able to see her more often. This is wonderful, because this person is family. She helped me through so many good times and bad. She was a friend when I hardly had any, due to my family situation at home. She knew that my step-father was, at best, rude and crude, and at worst, violent. Yet she still came to my home. Years later she would help me move my  belongings cross-country because my hideous ex-husband threw all of my things out on the lawn and had moved on with another woman. I can tell you for certain I would NOT have survived that incident without her. There are many memories and lessons learned and even a few tough times she and I had to work our way through so as to keep our friendship. I’m so lucky she’s been in my life whatsoever, and I hope I’ve helped her just as much.

This caused me to think about several things, but mostly that I don’t have many relationships of any sort in my life right now, and that’s mostly because I’m not putting myself out there. I’m not trying.

The point of this is to say, I’m so happy she’ll be back soon. It got me to thinking about things that make Bipolar bearable. Straight away, these are the things that first come to mind. Things that can lead me, inspire me, help me remember…whatever I need to start moving. An emotional move that needs to take place. Emotional efforts. Emotional chances. Sometimes, I believe I fall into not taking on these emotional issues because I want to remain steady and not rock the boat. Not feel any new pain, any new hurts. But the not putting myself out there, the lack of trying, is actually helping the Bipolar defeat me, and I will not accept that.

So what helps me? What drives me? What is realistic? What is not? Can I set up proper time management. Do I have a Plan B. I was taught that by a therapist over and over. Always have a Plan B. (Sometimes, I have a C.)

What is important and healthy for me?

God, good friends, family, writing, listening to music, dancing around for a few minutes in a locked room with only the cat to watch me and think of me as foolish, previously mentioned cat, art, books, learning, nature, people to discuss books with and attending Bible studies. How can I incorporate some of this into my life, because I’ve figured out that without planning or meaning to, I’ve become mostly isolated. Thus, it’s time to go to work.

These are things I have planned. If I don’t manage all of them, I’m not going to call it failing. Rather, if I accomplish some of this, I’ll put a huge check mark in the win column. Joining a book club, finding a church that has an evening service (because I sleep so little it’s hard for me to make morning church services) volunteering for CASA and going back to school with hybrid/online classes. I’ve got to be around people, and I must use my mind.

Additionally, I must feel emotions. Feelings that don’t come just because of how my brain chemistry works that day, but out-in-the-world, real-life feelings. Even if there are a few bad feelings with the good. I’ve got to live a life. I must learn to navigate and build friendships, and fall on my face, and attend class on a day when I feel like hell.

I’ve got to live a life. Otherwise, even if I feel somewhat stable, it’s a stability I feel while shut away from the world. No. Just no.

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What gets you going? Is there something you need to do? Are you living a full life, according to your terms? Are you struggling with any of this? Found things that help? Advice or feedback?

Would ALWAYS love to hear from you guys.