The concept of connection and community has been on my mind a great deal lately. Growing up a military brat and moving every three years, I was constantly having to create and recreate a community of friends for myself. This transitory way of life led me to develop invisible walls and barriers between myself and groups of people. I've always been a very social person, but at the same time maintained that I had a need for independence. I lived life with a sort of "I don't need anyone else" attitude. I also grew up in a family where intense fighting was the norm and emotional support virtually nonexistent, somewhat abusive one could say. In a space where words were more often hurtful than mindful and crying always meant that something was wrong. My way of coping when I was growing up was to maintain a somewhat "invisible" status, again, harking back to my claim that all I really need I can give myself.
Recently, I have discovered the beauty and importance of being in community. I no longer desire to withhold my feelings from others, including myself. I also recognize my need for connection. I am so grateful that I am allowing these desires to exist.
Tonight, I went to a bipolar support group. Lately, my moods have been swinging all over the place and I thought it would be nice to talk to some others. I really want to write more about this, but I need to go to bed. So, I just want to say that I am proud of myself for facing a fear. I also want to note that people are amazing and wonderful beings and that as tough has my illness has been in my life, I am actually grateful for it for allowing me to really have compassion and empathy for a kind of struggle with one's own mind that is impossible for many people to understand.
Fear Is the Wish
1 day ago
2 comments:
Hey Katie, It's great to connect with you! I really relate to this post. been having an up and down week myself. People need people!
~Liz
I was diagnosed bipolar II a couple of years ago and after stints with many SSRIs and other chemicals, I found more help from other bipolar people than the medicine ever offered. The only time I lean on meds now is when I've been hypomanic or manic to the extent that I can't sleep for days. And then I get off the meds as soon as possible.
Meditation, not medication, as my partner says.
And yes, there are coping and healing techniques that make the highs and lows more bearable and less intense.
When manic, busy yourself with something clearly useful. Solitude works for me, because at least I'm not risking some other relationship with my illness. So sweeping the floor is good. Reorganizing all the CDs and DVDs by genre and release date, not so good. There is something about using the energy to accomplish something that calms the scatterbrain feedback loop.
When depressed practice gratitude and schedule aerobic exercise like you're going to work (or whatever you "must do"). At least have empathy for yourself being subject to brain chemistry cycles and know that everything, absolutely everything, is temporary.
For both these states, sitting meditation. It's a lot more trying when manic than when depressed, but it helps center both.
The crazy people are the only ones who understand it from the inside, who grok this swinging state. We have to look out for one another; no one else understands us enough to be able to help us!
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