We’ve moved. Julie has started a new job. My own prospects are a bit bleak right now. White Supremacists in the Full-Time RV community have forced me to deactivate my FaceBook account. Old friends are not really speaking to me right now. We have one car, so while Julie’s at work I’m land-bound. I’ve been sick since we got to Denver (a bit longer than that, actually, but no matter).
That is the situation, and looking at it, the way I’ve written it, the whole thing sounds pathetic and funny! I’d even laugh if it weren’t for a few factors just shadow-fucking with me.
The Moods Thrive in Isolation…
Here we go again!
“Collin is just miring about in a pity pit and whining about the temperature while he’s at it!”
Yeah…there is that. I’m also a writer and despite some past advice saying “Writing is NOT therapy”, I’m telling that voice in my head to fuck off. It is therapy for me, and I know from past experience that things like this help people suffering from mental illness. They read it and know they’re not alone.
And isn’t that the whole point?
I know I’m not alone–thus the word “Isolation”. It’s worse than being alone.
When you’re isolated you see people, know they’re there, know they see you but choose not to. And that sucks, it’s hard, it makes the Bipolar thrive and multiply and it makes those scenarios your mind makes up gain power and solidity. They gain color, smell, sound. They gain Reality…
The moods (the dark ones) grow and multiply, crowding out everything; making a stage for the reality show isolation scripts.
Dim the Lights…
…let the show go on.
A thousand episodes stream in real-time. Actors walk the stage, free-forming action and riffin’ like mighty poets in the dim. Life, projected, runs like water in a background of smoke and inconsequential places.
None of it exists, but it’s real.
I’m sitting in a box seat the size of postage stamp, tears on my face, eyes open wide, experiencing everything – reality or not because it just doesn’t matter.
All of it has to play out.
All of it must play out.
If I deny it, ignore it, try to direct it…I’m just wasting time and energy on the inevitable; making bad decisions and doing things to make the isolation worse.
I sit in the box, immersed, letting it wash over and through me until it.is.done.with.me.
And when it is, I make a choice.
Life goes on. It goes on from the moments that have happened while the show happened.
Then I act. I do something. I do anything, so long as it’s not based on the show.
If I’m isolated, I will simply break the isolation…that’s it.
So What’s the Big Deal?
Sorry, it’s not something I can explain…and even if I could, you probably haven’t read this far. If you have, you’re probably Bipolar…and that means you already know what the “Big Deal” is.
But I will try.
I can either keep writing the script for an episode of my choosing, act like that’s my continuation, deny the real and get lost in a ghost world.
Or I can acknowledge my situation and do something about it. I acknowledge the Show and all of its implications, not denying it; own it, accept it, write something like this as a placeholder…a cairn along the path so I don’t get lost. And then I move forward before the earth shakes or a wave rises to erase the cairn.
Isolation is temporary. THIS is temporary. I can, and will, move on.