Endings

My world is encased in opposites.  I came to this realization, not of my own accord, in the office of a psychiatrist maybe twenty-five years ago.

Moodiness and inexplicable extreme behavior quickly led to the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. That diagnosis led to the quick fix drugs of the day.

Not too many months into drug therapy, I quit taking the prescriptions.  Right then and there, I knew that loss of control, to any degree, was not going to happen to me! There would be no termination (ending, if you prefer), in order to begin a more socially acceptable version of myself.

Years of boxing with myself in the ring of reality, I began to accept that I was different. I knew instinctively, that taking off the mask would jeopardize relationships. Being raised by ultra-conservative parents, my immediate task was to lie and I became pretty good at it.

I was a closet Bipolar.  Knowing that my husband's career depended, in part, on the perceived stability of our marriage, I kept to the straight and expected narrow path of a military spouse.

Private moments, when he was on remote duty, were liberating.  I could be who I was, both of me. The year he was living on Guam, I celebrated daily with two toddlers in tow.

Family visits were always hellish, especially because I had the role of social chairwoman.  Always playing nicely with the relatives... ending my reality and beginning theirs.  You may not understand the tremendous effort involved here. It was and continues to be a pseudo-suicide.

The quick love affair I had with my first published book, "Bipolarity", is now the visible bridge between my worlds. It is an offering of my gratitude to universal wisdom. I am inherently conscious of all my thoughts and their role in my interplay on this momentary journey in time.

Endings are not possible now, interruptions- maybe. Life, for me, is a continuum.  I am part of the mass, just cosmic dust in between travels-the never-ending gift of living between extremes.