This lack of sleep thing sucks. Let's face it, less is not more. But I have no desire to drink or cut. I only have the orange flower on my nightstand. Today may be good. The cats leap effortlessly in and out of their window, and the dog sleeps like a good boy. He is a corgi mix, you know those little dogs Queen Elizabeth has? He is a mutt from something like them. He deserves his picture here.
Minor stressors in my environment blow into mountains, and fall back into molehills, as each day passes. Reality and memories swim in and out of my mind. They turn into dreams at night. So I wake and drink my coffee and come here. Or I walk out to the pink and orange zinnia and touch them, trying to ground myself.
It's time for my Fourth Step: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself. It will include a written history of my life, which I will turn over to another person and the higher Power, when I do my Fifth Step. We will burn the pages together. It is supposed to relieve me of the burdens, the garbage of my past. Some people do say that it works to free them from their past, and some do not feel the relief. Whenever I have done the Fifth Step in the past, it has not worked to relieve my mind of my memories' clarity, and ability to take over my life.
But I am different than I used to be. The circumstances of my life have changed and I am more committed than ever to my sobriety, and to dealing with borderline and bipolar. I am more equipped to handle reality than before. Which is good because I have more reality to deal with. There is nothing like doing a real wrong, instead of a faintly offensive one, to make me want to unburden myself. My memories scream and their wings beat the glass of my brain cage, to be released.
I hope that the telling and the living will relieve me of these dreams. They cause a hollow taste in my mouth, and fog drifts through my bedroom. Only the innocence of my dog and cats keep me from despair when I wake. I can stand up to the dreams. I can face the harm I have done others. Why didn't I do this when my sins were much lighter?
This is the self-judgement that doesn't just assess, but causes harm. This is the depression of lack of sleep talking to me, and the seemingly endless cycle of the hormonal changes that work on me.
I used to be all about honesty here. I have become afraid to write the full truth that could help someone. A natural desire to conceal secrets has a hold of me, lately. Understandable, as I can't list my sins on the internet!
But I can list what happens at menopause. I have a cycle every two weeks. I don't know if that is also the natural rhythm of my bipolar, but I can't help but think the two are linked. Sometimes I think the bipolar disorder has multiple, and sometimes coinciding circles. I try to keep track of my cycles, of body and mind, and it becomes overwhelming.
My body is having a cycle, and my mind seems to follow it into the expulsion of material. New material, new memories, long hidden, swim to the surface at night. I wake with a desire to start the day, to get release from my mind, and end the cycles of my body. But the caffeine doesn't work. My mind and body still flow with seeming injury. All that is lacking is the crow nesting on my roof, and Wormtail as a house boy.
I do feel like a resident of Slytherin House today. I am evil on the face of the planet. I am the dark shadow that lives in the heart.
Ok. At this point I need to eat. And some more coffee and about 40 more cigarettes. I need a tub to soak in. (My apartment doesn't have one.) I need the comfort of a cat. I need to paint the walls, and do the laundry. I need a trip to Scotland.
I have plans that will keep me busy until the end of my natural lifespan so I am good on that one. It's a food bank kind of day. It's also a group therapy day. If I can stay busy enough, maybe I can live with the dreams and the memories. It is 5 hours until I can take my Abilify.
Meanwhile we have this zinnia's worth of time to spend together. I spotted the moon last night, for the first time in a long while. The clouds have been hiding it and the stars. The night is hot and muggy, but it will be cooler as the week goes on. We don't really need the moon to make it to the forest, but the field is so much lovelier with it.
The path is damp, but what isn't in this climate change year? The grasses of the field are still green, and the umbrella plants lie at the feet of the trees. The wind is changing, the breeze blows from a different corner of the earth, and the turkey run before it, like scattering leaves.
It is harvest time, the most blessed of times in the ancient world. My body is in harvest, and my mind is busy bearing the fruits of my life. It's not all dark and dangerous here, but the forest should be respected. We have never been in control.
*After reading this post, the only thing that keeps me from deleting it, is the total inability to write another. I mean, how depressing is this? Life doesn't suck that hard, but that's how I feel when I wake up from nightmares.
I mean, come on...when do they stop? Too, I am tired and my sleep cycle is messed up, again. That's another cycle to keep track of. It's enough to drive me crazy. And I'm thinking eggs for breakfast. I need some protein and some omega 3's. I need more anti-depressant and some progesterone to perk me up. All I can do really though, is plod through each day, and not drink or cut.
I don't feel like doing either, to tell you the truth but I would like to soak in a tub. My next apartment is going to have a tub. Seriously.
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