Swelltide.

Spent most of the day alone. Around people, but alone. Hanging out in my car, waiting for things to happen. Got out, looked around, said a few things, and sat back down. Fell asleep for about ten minutes. I came home to this big, empty place. Now what?

Nothing to do today, but think. Think about childhood stuff, and get pissed off. Think about work stuff and get pissed off. I think about the way my life seems to be going, and I get pissed off. I think about smaller things-- that one of the two people I've told firsthand about being bipolar was my boss and now I occasionally must deal with him being patronizing. "Wouldn't want you to go off into a tizzy." I get pissed off.

So much of what I have to deal with and work through goes so far beyond the one big thing-- bipolar. I don't want to be one of those people who go through life, the whole of their life, carrying around the hurts of childhood. When I went to therapy for the first time, it had nothing to do with any of this stuff. I was happier ignoring it all, and pretending that nothing was bothering me. No. That is not true. I was not happy, at all. It was just easier. It was lazy. Which is why, in a way, for the past few days or weeks, I've been alternating between moments of quiet thought, and being so angry that I would want to put my hand through a wall.

One day, I'm okay. Oblivious. And, the next day I am reliving moments that happened twenty years ago. I don't understand it. Most of it. Why I do this. Why I sometimes don't do this. Why some things have stuck with me in such a way, and some things I've forgotten about or can't completely remember. I don't know what to do with it. According to my therapist, this stuff never really goes away. Fun.

So, if I want a functional life, as someone living with bipolar, I need to heal. I need to move on. I need to either forgive or forget. I don't know that forgiveness is something I am interested in and I obviously can't forget.

So, that is where I'm at, today.