I am One in Four

 

 

 

 

 

There is no 31 days Mental Health Awareness month for me. I live with Manic Depression 365 days a year. There are no fancy, frou frou vacations, hefty bonus’, no benefits that come at the end of the year. Your family members do not get a staycation while in your company, they get who they get. Which part of me will take the lead, manic, mean, irritable, physically ill, depressed, anxiety ridden I can’t say. As much as I would like to spare them the uncomfortable that is my rapid cycling. So many friends have been lost, disappeared, dissolved, abandoned, unable to grasp the incessant, cruel velocity I live. It stings only a little now, I don’t have the luxury of wasted energy. I do wonder if I had cancer of the brain, instead of the mouth would I be treated different? If I was a betting man, I’d bet against me. The very real odds are I might not make it. Most days, every day if I’m 100% honest, I plan my exit strategy (verbal diarrhea is one of the ‘perks’ of my job). I never act on it, the comfort in knowing I have control over this one thing helps. It helps me get through the hard, challenging, excruciating days I am living. My brain does not stop, the top spinner that slows only enough so I get a glimpse of the who I was. She and I, at forever odds searching for a middle ground. The compromise we both can live with. When I set out to write a book, I did not believe I would finish. I am no GIRLBOSS, 10% Happier, John Greene author (although I wouldn’t mind). I may never make a bestseller list. But this book, my book, The Vast Landscape kept me alive. Hell yeah, I’d say that’s better than any Goddamn bestseller list, and yes I am wicked proud. My accomplishments are bigger, harder and higher than most. Every single day that I wake up, and choose LIFE is a day I beat the odds. Every damn day I wake, I’ve won.

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Something Beautiful

Because life is hard enough.

Everyone deserves something beautiful. I was never the girl who liked flowers.

I discovered I loved digging in the dirt instead, leaving the hidden seed behind.

Waiting a full, grueling season, wondering which plant and flower had survived the gray freeze of a long, biting winter.

Just like one hundred cycles before, the sun reappears. I wonder if the flowers will thrive long after I’m gone. 

I do this for me, not money or fame. Just like the words I lovingly leave on the page. 

To create, a little something magical.

Because everyone deserves a taste of beautiful.

Because life is hard at times.

Life is beautiful and hard enough.

The Clutterman

 

You know what I hate? Like really, really despise? ‘Visualize your best life,’ Social Media posts. If only you meditated more, dreamt better, a gulf stream, diamonds, your greatest desires would appear. If I were a genie with a magic bottle, I’d obliterate global warming, nukes, little girls stolen from their mothers, cancer, homelessness, poverty. Every single injustice, I’d balance the scales. Goddamn, I hate when said person writes, ‘living their best life.’ Which is preposterous, delusional, downright denial. We might be granted incredible moments when everything fits. Happy, serene, and amazing are readily available. The rest of our time is spent de-cluterizing, looking back, leaping forward. Humans, myself included are predictable.They prefer not to ask the hard questions. I can’t seem to stop asking, searching, questioning. Why don’t the scales balance out? Why does a beautiful, sweet 26-year-old wife and new mother birth twins only to lose her life. I bet she visualized her best life, tragedy found her instead. Why? I want to know. Why, god damn it? There are no answers for her twins, who will only know their mother by memory. Do not post some ‘inspirational picture, bullshit quote’ without asking first, do my scales balance out? Am I the slightest bit aware of the planet, persons around me? Did I do one kind thing today, go out of my way for a stranger? Do something good, without telling a soul. Why has my family bore so much tragedy? Lucky? No, and yes. Do not say think positive, I might punch you. I fight hard to stay alive, without tangible reason. Living is not about me, don’t take it so personal. My life is harder than most. I’m not complaining or a pessimist. I’m a realist with an invisible disease, that no other being can comprehend. De-clutterize immense pain that comes from the chaotic, mis-firing mind. Do not tell me to try harder, look at the bright side. Tiny moments of happy are best lived eyes open. The scales, I’m throwing them out the attic window. Since the beginning until the end of humans, they’ll never balance out.

This is it. My one, honest, in your face, best life.