I have been reading the writings of other bloggers lately; those with diseases, and those without.  I suppose part of it is curiosity and part of it is an attempt to learn how to make my posts more real.  I have attacked this need to write about my experiences with a kind of sunny, sappy disposition.  I have tried to avoid the more dark and dangerous parts, partly because my husband reads my posts and partly because talking about those dark places puts me right back in it.

Compared to many I have had a rather easy journey with bi-polar.  I have fought the battles largely on my own, with a strength that I try to remember.  I have fought for the beauty and the wisdom to conquer the battles that rage within me, and I have found very few avenues to escape.  I hide who and what I am each and every day; in my writing, in my child’s eyes, in my own life.  I hide the reality because that reality is so dark as to be blinding.

In the world I am a happy and put together person; in the darkness of the lonely I am not. In the world I have an ability to mask everything about me, in the darkness of truth I can not.  What is strange is even writing these words, there is a lack of evil that I consider this disease to truly have.  There is a lack of nightmares, because I never speak of them.

I wrote a post to parents about encouraging their children to keep their mental diseases a secret.  And I wrote that advice because the truth is this disease will cause pain, hardship and fear because those we love the most feel just that.  And I look at myself, and realize that I push to the exact opposite of pain, hardship and fear.  I hide it so well that those around me do not guess, do not know who and what I truly am.

Is part of it out of shame? Yes.  Is part of it out of fear?  Yes.  Is part of it out of love?  Yes.  And part of it is the only way that I can live.  When this post is done, I am required to go back to this job, this drudgery of my life, and live.

And yet, I have so much hope that one day I will be able to stop religiously taking that handful of pills, that I will legitimately be able to live with the world that my mind has created. A world that moves at different speeds, and comes at different speeds, and overall speeds to heights and lows that a layman can never feel.

I want to explore the darkness, and live in a world that only I can see.  I want to feel the sun on my face, and the wind in hair and know that it is  not part of my coping.  I want to drink a bottle of wine and stay up all night writing, and know that it isn’t chemically induced. I want to create evil and create the depth of love that makes a character shine.

But for now, I will sit in my sunny world, resenting.  And I will wait until the day I meet my soul once again.  And maybe, just maybe I will finish building the walls that will let me live.