REFLECTION FROM MARCH 17TH, 2008 @ AGE 26
RE: THE DISPROPORTIONATE IMPERFECTION BETWEEN A BIPOLAR’S MOOD AND REALITY’S CIRCUMSTANCE, WHEREIN TRUE BEAUTY CAN BE FOUND.
I was thinking yesterday on the drive home from North Canton of a few things that I think I’ll record now (since I have the time before work and all!). Every time I go down to Kayleigh and Sam’s I feel ashamed of showing off this Star of David. I almost feel ashamed to expose this level of intensity, this incredible strength of feeling and conviction that I possess. I think I feel most ashamed too, in this particular instance, because I bear the star of a boy who never treated me as I deserved to be treated. He was never the kind of boyfriend I ought to have had. So it makes me embarrassed to show how disproportionately I loved him, how disproportionately I do love him still. That’s always been the dilemma though…my having to hide from others the disproportionality of my feelings from the concrete “truth” of reality.
The issue never lied in a disconnect between my emotions and literal circumstance, but rather in this unusual apportionment of feeling in relation to the reality of circumstance. This is what has made me feel crazy all these years. That my feelings are, most of the time, imbalanced to the “reality” of circumstance. This is the dilemma that bipolars face, and this is the quality that drives others to think of bipolars as crazy. But the really crazy part about it all is this: that this characteristic from which I most want to run and hide is exactly the characteristic which I must stand up to illuminate, to shout from the rooftops my understanding such that others have even the possibility of understanding what it means to be bipolar. I must expose my innermost vulnerability to shed light on this matter. This is the key to my freedom at long last, I have found the key to my freedom. In exposing that which I fear most to expose, I will set myself upon a glorious fire for all the world to see.
I look at my foot, at this beautiful Star of David, and in fact, I see imperfection. There are ink splotches in some lines, some lines are not exactly parallel, some triangles are larger than others. But I look at this Star of David and while it may hold imperfections in fact, this Star is absolutely, positively perfection in beauty. Much like myself, I am full of imperfections. My boobs could be bigger, my thighs and waist smaller, my eyes could be more green, my hair could be longer, my fingers could be more narrow; I could be smarter and more eloquently spoken, I could have a better memory and I could be more agile and pleasant in social situations. But all that aside, nothing even really matters because my perfection lies not in circumstance, but in beauty alone. Much like human beings in general, really.
I forgot to mention the other day, but when I was at the beauty salon talking with Alice, my wonderful hair stylist, I was telling her a little bit about my family and I ended up telling her about my oldest brother who is no longer talking with the family and all. Well then she started to share a little with me about her family, and she told me that her only sibling, her older brother, had been missing now for years. I thought she was kidding me and I told her as much and she said no, no, honest to god not. And I was shocked. I later asked her what she thought about the whole Health Ledger being found dead in his apartment and all, and she said her dad went on a drinking binge for a week because it reminded him of his son, her brother, such tragedy for such young souls. I really don’t know what to say more than I was really shocked that that’d happened to her and I feel so bad about it, and I wish there were something I could do, some way I could help. But I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to help. It feels really good though that she at least thought that she could tell me something like that, that she could share it with me, and really she was showing me that I was not alone. That her brother had quite literally gone missing too. My heart breaks when such beauty lies deep within such hideous tragedy.
It seems more and more that beauty is what’s given to those who belong here, by those who do not, before their early departure’s taken flight. I am a medical miracle. Without drugs, I would not still be alive. If we simply allowed evolution to chart its own course, I would be long gone from this world. Sometimes I’m really not sure which is the better of both ailments.