Hi there, people who are reading this blog! It’s been a while; I realize this. I think part of me was waiting for something to happen to me. Some breakthrough in therapy, some new job, some sign that I was going to return to New York sooner rather than later.
Nope. And that’s ok. Part of this whole process, I’ve come to realize, are the days when I’m not necessarily living a blog-worthy existence: the days when just getting up, showering, and powering through are enough. There are a lot of those days in the month. But let’s catch up, in case we’ve missed each other. I’ve missed you.
I’m still working at the antique store in town, and it’s been fun wearing dresses I’ve gotten there. Fifty percent of the time my mom looks at me wearing them and says, “Huh.” Moms, amirite?
I’ve also been modeling for art classes at the high school I went to, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got smizing down. Just kidding — it’s eagle eyes for days. Check em out.
Look, Ma, my hair is growing back!
Modeling means that I get to work on meditating while attempting to detach myself from any lingering sense of vanity I might have snuck out of the psychiatric ward. One side effect of my medication (I’m pretty sure it’s been Depakote, that sneaky mood stabilizer) has been weight gain, so I’m a bit more paunchy than normal. Then again, I also have a larger cup size, so one woman’s weight gain is another woman’s treasure… chest… Needless to say, it’s been humbling to have high schoolers draw and sculpt my heavier body, but it’s also a reminder to me that my weight does not determine my worth. Yes, I’ve been proud of my body before, especially in the context of playing a sport that I love, but is it the be-all-end-all? No. Thanks, modeling.
I did not come here to make friends.
Another feature of life with bipolar has been a feeling of restlessness, accompanied by the worry that this restlessness will never cease. I start to sit down to read, then wonder if I should work on a MOOC, instead. But wait, I have to fold my laundry. No, I should look for jobs in the area. Scratch that, I really need to work out.
I got to fight this restlessness in January, though, when I was working remotely for Bottom Line (the non-profit I used to work for) by making phone calls to measure where our students were at and see what they wanted to focus on for the next semester. Yes, I did need multiple breaks throughout the day, and sometimes I had to lie down after several phone calls in a row because I found it too difficult to move on immediately. Slowly but surely, though, I got through them. I can still do some work, which is a relief, and I am overwhelmingly grateful to Bottom Line for the opportunity to prove that to myself. I know it’s going to be a while before I’m fully recovered, but I’m a lot further along than I was in September, when I could barely hold a conversational thread for five minutes, much less work for two hours straight.
My last update is that this is my last post on this blog. I do want to continue to explore what it means to be bi and to have bipolar disorder, but these are just two aspects to my overall personhood. Freedomfreys has served me well in the past, and will continue to do so in the future. And you, my friends, will continue to be there for me, as well.