I have noticed an amazing thing these last couple of weeks, something I didn’t know was possible. I have noticed a calm acceptance, almost as if I was laying in the sun simply being for hours. There is still the anger, the passion, the worry, the frustration…but it is wrapped in a thicker blanket than ever before.
Being bi-polar my life is a series of dips, curves and u-turns. There is never consistency, nor have I ever really wanted it. I like the drama of my life, the darkness that keeps me awake and the beauty of madness. But I have always concealed my true self underneath the thickest, warmest and largest blanket that I could find. A blanket to cover my emotions, my true self, a way to protect my soul from those who can not understand, and who are truly unable to accept who and what I am.
But lately, that blanket has gotten thicker, almost as if the frayed edges are being sewn by an expert hand, creating another layer to protect me. Almost as if the afghan holes are somehow being replaced with squares of quilt. Pieces coming together, with steel thread, weaving a beautiful tapestry to hide under.
And the only thing that has changed is that for the first time in years, I am writing with regularity. I am taking the questions, the demons, the things that keep me up long into the night and finally talking about them. I am questioning my life, my world, and every piece in it, and through it I am finding the kind of peace that makes it easier to survive. My words are bringing the pieces of cloth together, the holes that this misery slipped through are being covered by the truth.
The demons are not fleeing in front of the power of my pen, my darkness is not being destroyed by the light of inspiration, but rather the blanket that I can pretend covers me from head to toe, and protects me from others’ eyes is getting stronger. More pronounced.
I imagine that my blanket is getting so thick that others can see it miles away. I imagine the walls that I am trying to build are finally becoming strong enough to keep my darkness inside my own soul; away from those who cannot possibly be okay with it. My mother no longer needs to pull the covers back, my husband no longer needs to snip the threads, my whole world can find comfort from the darkness being kept away from their own misery.
With hiding, comes freedom. With hiding, comes a vast amount of tempered strength, it allows one to bury the true self in order to create a self more acceptable to the world. And we both know, that the world will only accept that which it understands. The world, my family, my children, need stability. They need light and the belief that this world is turning in the same direction for us all. They need to believe that I am as amazingly put together as they pretend to be. They need to know the drugs are working.
But the truth is, I have found a new drug. The truth is being able to anonymously put out into cyber space my own thoughts, has allowed me to exist in a world that drugs never gave me. Maybe I have found my cherry tree, maybe I have found my secret garden. Could it be that I found my own paradise to rest so comfortably in? Could it be I found my own peace of writing? The truth is, like anything else in my bi-polar world this too shall pass. And there will come a time when this peace will once again be frayed, and the threads will once again be snipped.