Shattered

That’s the word that comes to mind when I try to find a word to best describe how I’m feeling lately. Like broken glass.

A glass is sitting on a kitchen counter. The glass is a sturdy container. It holds whatever liquid that you want to put in it. Some days, it may hold a drink of water for a thirsty man just coming in after mowing his yard. Some days, it may hold orange juice for a mother who is getting ready for a busy day. And, on other days, it may be filled with nice, cold milk in the hands of a tired child having her bedtime snack. A container for many things……..maybe, even a bouquet of flowers freshly picked from a front lawn. A glass is sitting on a counter. A careless movement of an arm sends the glass crashing to the floor. Along the way, it’s contents are splashed on walls, counters, chairs. It’s liquid may spill onto a new carpet, staining it with patches of color. The glass may break into two or three pieces. Although unsightly, the glass can be glued back together. But, what happens if the glass explodes into many, many tiny, sharp shards? A patient and persistent person may still be able to glue the glass back together. In probability, pieces will be missing and the glass will have a haphazard and not very stable appearance. What about the liquid? There is no way to replace that very liquid that was spilled. More liquid that is just like that liquid can be poured into the glass. And, if the glass was not broken into too many pieces and glued together, it will hold the new liquid. But, if the glass was totally shattered, no matter how much glue is applied, it cannot hold new liquid.

I feel like the shattered glass. Somehow, I have seemed to lost whatever “liquid” that I contained. And with the breaking, I left stains that cannot be cleaned with any cleaner. And, the possibility of being glued back together is not very real.Maybe, I’ll find a different liquid to be filled with. Not the same, though. Never will be again. Everytime we shatter, we change.

I know that this does not make sense to a lot of people. It does sound like the ramblings of a not-so-together-”out-there” person. And, it is.

I’m not sure what it is going on right now. My nerves really feel raw. I feel like I’m unraveling in a scary way. I have no desire or real interest in doing anything productive, entertaining, spiritual, self-destructing, etc. I have NO INTEREST AT THIS TIME PERIOD. I am on “pause”, I guess. Something is going to happen. A change of some kind. This is not the first time that I have experienced this. I may wake up in the morning with a everything-is-so-wonderful-geewhiz-I’m just GREAT attitude. I may wake up and continue to do the slip-sliding-away-pokey down into the black cold hell of depression. Or, I may not wake up at all. Place your bets, folks. Odds are pretty even on all three options.

Now, I want to explain why I’m posting this. This is nothing new. Familiarity doesn’t make it any more bearable, though. I’m posting this for the people who are NOT bipolar. When we started this blog, we agreed that we wanted to educate people who don’t understand the mind-fuck that we live with constantly. The ever-present struggle to get through each day the best way we know how. Some days are easy. Some days are nothing short of torture. The struggle to just get through a day without falling apart. The effort that we have to muster up just to appear “OK” to the people in our lives. I just want to make people….even one person…..to have even a small window into our worlds/minds. Ya see, we are NOT the “rehab fab” famous people who check into a clinic or hospital or where-the-hell-ever for a couple of weeks and come out with all our wrongs made right. Those people are posers…..pure and simple…..bipolar posers. We are posers, too, though. Except we pose every single minute of every single fucking day to be functional at our least….”normal”..at our best. The amount of effort that it takes to form these words is huge. Keeping my mind on what I am writing is not easy. It has been increasingly darting here, there, and everywhere for days now. I have canceled appts.I don’t feel like dealing with any of it. I have not been answering the phone. I have nothing to say. I’ve been going out to the local Wal-Mart. Not to shop. Not to even look. Just to feel like I still have a foot in the real world. What better place than all American Wal-Mart. I just walk up and down and up and down the aisles. I am beginning to get suspicious looks from the greeters and clerks. I wonder what they think I am doing. Looking over on my counter right now, I see a pile of bills, unopened. This is not like me. I am very punctual about opening mail and paying bills. But, nonetheless, there they are. And, right now, I don’t give a damn. My husband hired a girl to come once a week and clean. She came today. I didn’t answer the door. Later, I felt bad for her. But, I felt unable to tell her what to do. Because I don’t care if anything gets done.

I TRY to think of a way to crawl up and out of this deep in the earth hole. But, I can feel the dirt crumbling under my hands and my fingernails are broken and caked with dirt. My arms are tired of reaching up. The heavy weight on my mind is making me too tired to climb. BP’s…….you know exactly what I am describing.

Non-bipolars……just imagine being thrown in an old abandoned mine shaft. When you’ve hit the bottom, you are so far down that you cannot see the daylight above. At first, you just sit in stunned silence. Then, you just sit drinking in the misery and cold. But, you want out. You HAVE to climb out or die. So, with every inch of your being, you begin to grasp at every branch, twig, rock, anything that you can get a hold on. And, you struggle to pull yourself inch by excruciating inch to the top. Finally, on the verge of giving up, you see a little sliver of light. And, you give it all you’ve got to finish the climb. But, guess what happens…….that last branch that you were so sure would give you the leverage you needed turns out to not have any real roots and you go falling back down…..down….down. Where you once again sit in a stunned inability to move. And, you may cry. You probably will scream out curses at the person who threw you down there. You feel the anger and rage welling up in you. But, you know that YOU MUST CONTAIN IT or else, you will use up all of your energy. Then, you just wait. And wait. Hoping that somebody, something, anything will come along and help you out of the hole. After waiting a little or maybe, a long time, you know that only YOU can save yourself. You realize that it’s all up to you No one will hear your cry or your curses. No one else will help. Can you picture this in your mind…..a very real scenario? This is what happens to people who have bipolar disorder on an all too frequent basis.

I can see no joy, happiness, or sense of purpose now or in the future. It’s pain in the most unimaginable form. And, if option number 3 is not the winner THIS time, this will happen again and again and again.

I do not want your sympathy. I want you to educate yourself in order to be more compassionate to the bipolar people in your life. I honestly did not want to write this. It hurts to write this. But, I knew that I had to.

I feel so goddam shattered.