An Hour or a Few Minutes

It may seem strange, but what may happen in an hour 

or even a few minutes can change one’s life forever.

Reposting of "That's the Deal"

  I sometimes think that I should write and describe my experience after my breakdown in the third person. It seems easier, somehow, to see myself at a distance; to act as an observer outside of myself. I think it makes it safer for others to see what may be a deeply buried part of themselves. This is how I/she experiences her life now, as if on a tightrope, even though it's been 10 years since her breakdown.  Since she came undone. So, this is how it would go... 

"She continues to feel fragile, though. She continues to guard a sensitive, fluid center. Sometimes, loud noises make her heart race--someone speaking her name without warning, or the telephone ringing late at night. Then she will take herself in hand. She will remind herself to draw back, to loosen hold. She has learned how to make it through life on a slant. "You've changed," her friend has said (all intensity himself).

I think that's the thing about what we call a breakdown. You are always acutely aware and remember this crack, this fissure that has occurred. It's like that hole in your gum after you lose a tooth.  You know you shouldn't keep touching it, but somehow you must, just to remind yourself it was once there. You are aware that the propensity for this fissure to widen is still there. At times, you feel that fissure stretching out and there's that need to hold on tight. You feel you must fight and be strong enough to keep that fissure from expanding to the point where it may break. 

There is a nascent fear that is under that façade of normalcy. The psychiatrist refers to you as his "success story." He even questions whether your diagnosis is correct. He says that maybe you don't have a mental illness; that the diagnosis of bipolar disorder was somehow a mistake. Yet you know the truth.  You remember that time when your mind was not your own. Because of this experience, this time of unraveling, you take your medication daily even though it sometimes blurs life's edges. It's the price you pay for never returning to this dark place. It's just the price you must pay. You felt the pain then so you can feel the happiness now. That's the deal. 

Masterpieces

 

We are all masterpieces in various forms of restoration.

Love

" Love is a compilation of events: the past and present welding together."

That Reprieve

Here is the thing about grief: You are going through your day, working, taking the dog for a walk, deciding on whether to eat salad or a burger for lunch.  Then a song, a memory or a smell hits you. It is not a cataclysmic thing whereby you fall to your knees in pain. It is rather this thing inside that you know might consume you should you let it. So, there are sporadic tears, very silently and quietly present as you go about your day. You feel you must hide these tears, that enough time has passed for the perfunctory time of grief. You ride out the wave and wake for the reprieve. It will come in it’s own time, that reprieve.

Folly Beach

 

The sunrise appeared instantly. Akin to when you are in that twilight sleep then suddenly, for whatever reason, arise, abruptly and fully awake. The horizon over the ocean was the darkest of night, it seemed, enhanced only by the crescent moon shining just over the horizon.  Suddenly, magically, the sky  lightens up, orange, fuchsia, yellow all at once. That sunshine rose, heralding the new day. A sense of hope, I suppose, that all things will be good. After all, orange, fuchsia and yellow could not foretell anything else.

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So, the day arrives and continues to pass either slowly or quickly depending on the tone of the day ahead.

Sunset is like sleep. It happens slowly, then all at once. Like sleep, you wait for the silence, the calmness to come. Deep purple, sky yellow and fuchsia expand over the horizon, deepening with each passing minute. The sunset pulls you in, ushering the end of the day.  Another day closes, beautifully, so beautifully.

 One Bad Day

We all have had those days where we are weary. That day when things have gone wrong and seemingly will not get better. That one bad day.  The thing is, things will get better. It is imperative that one pushes  through to get to the other side. After all, it is just one bad day out of 364 more good days.  It is just one bad day…