Welcome to my new writing series documenting my progress as I get in touch with my squirrelly feelings. It’s been years since I allowed them to scamper freely. Especially since my bipolar diagnosis three years ago, I have done my best to capture each feeling inside a logical cage.
However, letting out my feelings through writing for my childhood friend (who may as well have been my genetic twin brother as the person who knew me and could communicate with me better than anyone) was the emotional equivalent of releasing an army of rodents into the impeccably clean rooms of my house, including the logically stocked pantry to ward against emergencies.
It’s been a mess.
Instead of trying to restore order using the same obsessive method of caging each feeling, I’m contemplating the necessity of a new way of living with myself–one which allows thoughts and feelings equal standing. I just can’t live with suppressed emotions any longer.
When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I assumed that any and all of my moods could be linked to a chemical imbalance of the brain and therefore were unreliable. Practically speaking, I’ve been living as less than a whole person. The impact on my life is hard to measure, although I probably stayed in my last relationship (which was emotionally abusive) four months too long because I wasn’t paying proper attention to how he made me feel.
So my solution to my thought/feeling divide is to write it away. If I write about my feelings in a thoughtful manner, I can give them proper room to express themselves without train wrecking into psychosis. I’m looking forward to this journey into the unknown.
I feel a bit like Bilbo Baggins. I’m venturing outside the safe confines of my mental hobbit hole in the wake of unwelcome houseguests who wreaked havoc on my standard of living. The adventure calls to me, and there’s no telling where I will be swept off to…