The Opposite – a story

2.21.19

The Opposite

Story by @jenm_curry – possible trigger

I imagine a few at the service. A service sprinkled with an occasional photo of her looking happy.

Looking.

I imagine a couple of kind words; maybe a story or two. I imagine a child in anguish, wondering why more people weren’t in attendance, and then the sadness that will overcome his face when he realizes she was alone, followed by a brief moment of terror on his face. After all, what if this is his fate down the line, he thinks. I imagine a couple of acquaintances, or someones who knew someone else.

They might take a few minutes after they’ve left the service and are back home changing clothes, readying themselves for dinners with families and friends wondering to themselves, what did people do to her.

The reality being quite the opposite really.

Because in fact, it’s all about what people did not do.

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(Photo credit: Google images)

Not Even One

I’m so lonely. I’ve been in this quaint, picturesque, small town for almost three years now.

I do not have one friend.

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It’s not as if in the area back where we lived most of our lives I had dozens of friends I went out with, but I certainly had more than where I am now.

With my physical limitations, being a caretaker to my mom, a parent to a Bipolar teen and wife of a hospice chaplain, I cannot make plans and confidently, consistently meet penciled in dates because I hurt so badly one way or another. Back home, if I had to cancel, the people around me knew me and the situations well enough and understood. We just rescheduled. I don’t have that luxury here. I am just so, so lonely. Like crying buckets of tears alone kind of lonely, and I’ve no clue how to better my situation.

Hope you guys are doing well. Thanks for being part of the #bipolaruninvitedblog family. Take care of yourselves and each other when and how you’re able. ✌❤🌹

Open

OPEN ~ 6.1.18

It’s an absolute crime not to get up from my seat and walk over and open the blinds to allow sunlight in and see the birds flying about. It seems I cannot will myself to get up and do it, though. The cat seems intrigued as to what’s going on out there. Hmm.

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I’ll have to look and open the blinds, just because I don’t want to do so. It’s important for me to take steps like that and not slip into a rather deep, dark hole.

I’m feeling alone today. Have been for a few days. I feel like even though I am busy and ill, I take the time to reach out to others, but I don’t feel any reciprocation. Not from friends or family.

I just want to retreat further within myself. Trying not to, though.

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Trying…..

This.

This. Just this.

~~~~~

So, revisiting this entry approximately three hours later.

I’m just going to add that I feel so low and alone. That’s why I’ve not written much lately. However, I’m trying to log something because this is one of the worst things about Bipolar. Thinking you’re as low and alone as possible, but no, there is still somehow a way to dive lower.

You know, it’s not a dive, as just said above. It’s drowning. With heavy stones in your pockets. Drowning.

I’m not even sure how to describe it. The best I can do now is just write what I can when I can.