Peace, love and harmony. We all want it, we all seek it. Whether it’s from a new love, a new job, or just the feeling within your own heart. How do you find peace within yourself? Why is the answer so elusive? You pose the question, you wait, and then hopefully you have an answer. Life is not a mathematical problem, but damn, sometimes I wish it was. I wish that when two times two we get four, not two times two we get a wacky number like 3.14159265359, which just blows your mind up and your head starts to hurt.
My life took a hard turn. I had to leave my job, which for a bipolar person who is struggling deeply with their illness, is really hard to deal with. I was proud of myself for even having a job. I have been on disability for 10 years, and I have had jobs during this time. I even was brave enough to take on a job where I used up all my Ticket to Work program hours. (For those of you that don’t know, Ticket To Work is where you get to keep your disability no matter how much you make for a certain amount of months. What they don’t tell you is, you will NEVER get another 9 month work trial. What this means is, if you go back to work and you fail, you lose your disability and you’re out of chances). Great system right?
Anyway, with this latest job loss, I learned that I could push myself. Even though I feel like a big fat failure now, I know I did my best and gave it my all. The problem is, at 37 years old, I can’t do a 20 year old’s job. I am not fast enough, and I am not good enough. I was working for a small business, which means you have to work your ass off, and that I did. But still, it wasn’t good enough. Also, what I realized is, that deep in my old age, I developed a lot of pride in myself. Some jobs are just beneath me, so when I am told to wipe tables, stack boxes and take care of filing, I take it as an insult. I single-handedly took apart an entire spreadsheet export system and improved job efficiency at one of the top Ivy League schools in the country. Yeah, so demoting me to filing and cleaning is an insult.
So where am I now? In deep shit. I have no peace within my heart, and I am deeply troubled. In the face of all the tragedy in America at this point, I feel selfish in my little bubble. When I pray, I feel nothing, almost as if I have lost all touch with my spirituality. I know the meds are doing that to me. Not only have the meds numbed my spirit, they have numbed my soul too. I would give anything to FEEL again. So what did I do? Drown myself in alcohol, which made me feel ten times worse than I normally do. Let’s face it, bipolar is so fucking hard sometimes. The crippling lows we feel, as well as the wide array of emotion, makes me wonder if we should just take our lives and just end it all. That’s why the statistics of suicides among the bipolar community is so high. It is so unbelievably hard to live with this illness. And the fact that it so ridiculously hot for the beginning of October doesn’t help. I absolutely LOVE Fall, and I feel I being robbed of it. I hate the Earth, I hate the weather, I hate living.
How could I possibly feel hope and peace in my heart when so much hate takes up all that space? I am having an internal battle in which my spirit is being torn apart. I want to be able to pray, surrender, and just cry, and I can’t even do that because these fucking pills numb me out. I can’t win. I am losing, and internally I am suffering deeply.
I failed at everything, and I just wish I was dead.
But with every dark cloud, there is some silver.
I feel joy in writing. I had an amazing cyber sex session with a nice gent who is a little rough around the edges. I find myself wanting to please him, and I feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going sometimes. That’s what happens in online romances. You get the fire and spark, have amazing sex, and then everything else falls flat. I made a call out to the writing community on a roleplaying site, but I am a complete contradiction to myself. I want to find a writer to collaborate with, so when I made a plea out on an “ADULT” roleplaying site, I am shocked that the guy just wants to write about sex? Who the hell am I kidding?
What I have concluded is, I am my own definition of insanity. I do things over and over and expect a different result. I look for jobs with a low pay rate because I want to keep my disability, but I am appalled that they ask me to do demeaning work. It’s a low pay grade job, hello??? What do I expect? I look for writers on an adult roleplaying site, but I don’t want to write about sex. Hello, McFly??? Anyone home??? What do I really expect?
So, how do I find peace? In words. In language. I may want to die today, but tomorrow I may not feel the same. Living in my bipolar hell, just shows how strong I really am.
Will I ever find peace? I may never know.