Bipolar Nights, Manic Moonlight

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So, as the post heading might imply, I have bipolar disorder.  And, I’m proud of it.  It gives me creativity, imagination, thinking outside the box, heightened intuition, and an understanding and appreciation for all those who are different.

The reason for the title is that just last night, I stayed up all night in a somewhat manic state.  Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything rash.  I wasn’t drinking.  I didn’t order shit online that I can’t afford.  I didn’t go roaming the streets.  I actually put the manic energy and lack of sleepiness to good use.  I cleaned.  Both bathrooms, swept and mopped kitchen and downstairs bathroom, put away clean dishes and ran load of dishes in dishwasher, folded two loads of laundry, washed bathroom rugs, watered plants, put away clean clothes, cleaned up kitchen counter and tables, cleaned litter box and emptied litter tray, and smoked like a chimney.

I don’t tell you this to list my chore checklist, but to demonstrate the energy I had.  These were all things I didn’t have the energy to do all week, and I did them all in one night.  A long night.  I was up until 10 am and then slept for about two hours and went to work for 9 hours.  I was pretty tired, but managed to have a productive day at work.  Friday is truck day at Family Dollar, so it’s all about “pounding freight”, getting as much put away in as little time as possible.  It’s a weekly routine.  I think of it as a game.  Can I beat last week?  It makes it more bearable.  I’m not a creature of routine.  I hate routine.  I like variety, spontaneity, and little surprises.  I guess that’s why the people are the part I like most about the job, but you can read about that in my retail adventures category of this blog.

As I wound down from my natural high this morning before taking a too short nap, I felt a little guilty, unduly.  Maybe it was because it reminded me of all the nights I stayed up drinking half the night.  Actually, mania is a little like intoxication, especially when I’m horny.  But we’ll save that for another time.  I guess it’s my WASP background and strict upbringing.  It’s not practical or proper to stay up all night, especially when you have to work 9 hours the next day.  I feel like if I depart from my outward persona of mister reserved and mild-mannered, that I’ve done something wrong.  One must follow the norm and fit in.  What kind of lunatic is out on his deck smoking at 4 am?

I’ve read about micro cycles in bipolar disorder.  I think I have that.  There are times when I’m suddenly giddy for no reason.  I feel all warm and cozy or I just feel like laughing for no reason.  Five minutes later, the bottom drops out and I feel lower than a frog in the mud at the bottom of a pond covered with algae.

But that doesn’t last long either, fortunately.  And, God has blessed me with intelligence and creativity in writing, visual media and many other things.  It helps keep me going and helps to keep things in perspective.  Work is just work.  My life is my own and it is made up of my activities, my relationships with others, my creative outlets and improving the space around me (happy homeowner).

I go back and forth between discouragement and hope when I think of my future.  I’m a writer who doesn’t write.  That’s one of the reasons I started this blog.  I used to journal just for myself, but it inevitably broke down to a retelling of the mundane.  I figured if other people were reading it, it’d give me a different perspective.  Hopefully that is the case. If it gets mundane, someone please tell me!

Angela’s Ashes, a reaction

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Here’s something I wrote several years ago after watching Angela’s Ashes, a film based on the autobiographical book by Frank McCourt.  It was before 2008, before the Great Recession.  I think it applies to many more people now.

First, the excerpt that inspired me, spoken by a school teacher who sees the inequality to which the boys in his class are subject.

“It’s a disgrace that boys like McCourt, Clark and Kennedy have to hew wood and draw water in this so-called free and independent Ireland that keeps a class system foisted on us by the English.  Well, it disgusts me.  We throw our talented children under the dung heap.  If this is the end of school for you, you must get out of this country, boys, and go to America.”

Reaction:

So, where do we go? Where is today’s “Land of Opportunity”?  Where is hope? Perhaps the persistence and propagation of social ills and lack of great men and women of leadership is due to the lost resources of the bright minds, ingenuities and energies of a new generation, squandered by forces that care only of economics and power, and overwhelmed by a rotting corpse we call “old money”, the establishment, the status quo.

Worse yet is the new “consumption” [old word for tuberculosis] , apathy, that erodes not physical health, but compassion, intellect, and any sense of unity as the collective consciousness of a nation lapses into a coma, leaving reality to blow at random like a cold foreboding wind that aches the bones and opens the eyes of those few it touches.

And as their raspy throats cough up their warning cries, their stories fade to silence as the cold wind snakes along the grayest lowlands, never felt by those with sunshades on and fences built around their hilltop estates.

The regulars, cont’d

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Next there’s Joe and Helen.  I adopted a kitten from them last September.  He’s gray with white toes and white triangles on his nose and chest.  His name is Smokey and he has the softest fur I’ve ever felt on a cat.  Fortunately, he loves to be held because he’s irresistible.  Our ten year old cat, Wiley has taken him under his wing.  More on that later.

I like Joe and Helen.  They’re good people.  They have some strange family dynamics going on, though.  Joe sometimes comes in by himself to get cigarettes and always has alcohol on his breath.  In fact, he does when he’s with Helen too.  They have two kids, or that’s how many I’ve met.  Their daughter is 18.  I looked very closely at her license the first time she bought cigarettes.   Didn’t want to sell to a minor.  She once came in to buy a pregnancy test, then returned it because it didn’t give results early enough.  She said she’d kind of know by then anyway.   Of course it was only $4.00.  She said that was her bus money.  Did Joe and Helen know she was out?

I saw Helen at the 6 pack shop down the street one night after I closed up.  She was with a guy and seemed a little awkward.  She introduced him and told him I had adopted one of the kittens.  We talked very briefly and I continued on to find a microbrew I hadn’t tried.

They also have a son who looks to be about 11.  He’s independent as I guess he has to be, and talks with a slight speech impediment.  He seems the most well adjusted of them all.

The Joe and Helen family are moving this month.  When they told me a couple of months ago, I asked if they’d still be in the area.  Helen said no, and added almost wistfully, “somewhere far away…. hopefully.”  Perhaps they’re looking for a fresh start.  I wish them the very best.  I don’t judge people.  I just observe.  I had a stint of drinking heavily a couple of years ago myself, so I know it’s a difficult thing to deal with.