This is really in response to a comment that was left regarding a post of a poem about bipolar. TM, I think it is good to be able to find some lesson in everything. Scorsese’s ex wife wrote, in her book, “The Artist’s Way,” that an artist is someone who can see the beauty in every thing. As artists, we have to notice when we are creating life and when we are creating havoc in our lives and the lives of our loved ones. And find balance.
Of course wreaking havoc in lives is not an easy road to tow. I suffer at times with guilt. Guilt that I often self medicated with alcohol and would appear drunk often in my son’s late teens and young adult lives. I feel that I see some symptoms of them trying to reckon with it in there own lives in the form of anxiety, bickering, over use of weed.
I pains me. But I talk to them about it sometimes. And I am open and honest with my thoughts. And I try to be a role model for a healthy lifestyle that I know is enjoyable and obtainable. And I pray.
I was initially diagnosed as a “manic depressive” when I was 17. I kept saying that I needed to go to a psychiatrist. Finally, my parents scheduled an appointment with an associate. The ride to my first appointment was horrible. For some reason I used to hate riding in the car with my dad. I would spend the entire ride getting more and more angry. Then I’d burst into her office and pace around cursing and going off. Finally I’d settle down and sit. I only remember two sessions with her. In one, she prescribed Lithium. In the other, she recommended that I go to a psychiatric hospital for about a month. The lithium was miraculous. I finally felt normal and free from my mind. It was like waking up from a long lucid dream. My parents and I went to visit the hospital with the doctor, then rode home in silence. My mother and I were basically kinda relieved and thought, ‘we can figure this out.’ Coming from a long line of doctors, my dad really believed that you should do what the doctor ordered. He was probably right. But I just graduated early and flew off to D.C. to figure it out there while staying with one of my best friend’s aunt.
There, I felt guilty about some of the things that I’d done in high school, but not all. I didn’t really feel sorry about the beat down that we gave these two fils in the bathroom one night at the basketball game. How dare they talk shit about me at my boyfriend’s game! They picked the wrong bathroom because me and my girl were in separate stalls and heard all it all. We blasted out of the stalls in a surprise attack. We never got anymore slack from any of the bitches who probably wanted my bf since he was the superstar high school basketball player. He went to a school across town. I did not have time for no biyatches.
The point is that things can get better and that you will be okay. Try to see the beauty in everything, and practice forgiving yourself along the way.