Surprise Surprise

I have come to the realization that there are many types of surprises I do not like. My significant other and I have this debate here and there. I believe I like surprises, he begs to differ.

However, I received a text this evening from my thirty-one year old brother. It was one of those…call me when you can. In other words, its not just for a: “hi, hello, how are ya?” I was baby-sitting at a house in the hills with minimal cell reception…which is what I told my brother. He responded “landline?” Then I was like, “Fuck, this news is not going to be good” (for me at least).

I went ahead and called, though the service wasn’t great, I could hear him. Of course he started out with, “I have some good news I want to share with you.” Automatically, because our brains can think that fast, it can come up with several possibilities in a matter of ten seconds, I thought, Shit did he get his girl pregnant? Thank heavens no, it was the second conclusion I came to: he married the Canadian girl just as my mother and I had predicted just a couple short months ago.

I dont understand why, but every time I receive news of this sort my immediate reaction is to feel a strong sense of betrayal. Maybe it is jealousy masked in betrayal and anger, whatever it is, I don’t like the side-affects that accompany the emotion. My neck tenses, my mouth dries up like a puddle in 100 degree heat. I feel that thunderbolt of rage though my abdomen and chest, and then feel it go back and fourth a few times, not as severely as the first jolt.

I have never met the girl. Joey hasn’t mentioned anything that would indicate a possible nuptial other than the fact that “Marla” is a Canadian who doesn’t currently posses American citizenship. I immediately thought of the trips I made to see him in prison, which he was released from just a few days shy of a year ago. Anyway, I could make the trip up to see him, put money on my account so I could speak with him on the phone, cover for him every time someone asked how he was doing-okay, not every time, because some people could not be fooled. I did this for him, and he doesn’t have the decency to give me a heads up. Instead he waits until four days after the ceremony, despite the fact I had just spoken to him the night prior. Instead, he feels it necessary to inform me at midnight while I am out babysitting.

I don’t know what I feel. I just know that I have felt these emotions before. I notice them when I receive any news of this sort, an unexpected pregnancy, an engagement, an unexpected rush wedding (I should be used to it by now). But I am not. I think I feel stuck, stuck in a pile of muck while everyone else is passing me in the race. However I’ve thought this before. I’ve also seen how it ends. The sprung wedding lasted little over a year before papers were filed. The unexpected pregnancy followed by the shot-gun wedding proved to be quite the challenge that never seems to meet a resolution. These are just a couple of mentions.

Every time this type of news comes along I believe I am tricked. I, for a short moment, think that other people have it figured out. They have uncovered the artifact that we are all searching for, that “ah hah” moment we are all waiting to experience. That epiphany we all believe we will one day experience. Love at first sight, the accident that brought true love, all the bullshit that most likely doesn’t exist.

I guess I’m a bitter old hag because I am five years in. The sparks are losing there force–the force that keeps the sparks “sparked.” I am engaged, broke, and waiting to be accepted into a nursing program. I’m waiting to get into a program even though I am not sure its what I even want, or worse, something I can manage. I mean I know I could, but will I dread it and sludge through or become inspired like I’ve hoped I will. To add to this list, my fiancé hates his job, bitches and moans nearly every day, and doesn’t offer me the sense of security and hope I once felt from him. I didn’t worry that he would figure things out, do something he could tolerate, and make some decent cash. But who am I to judge, I’m bipolar Belinda over here, depressed and unsure of myself one day and ecstatic and overconfident the next. I am a hot mess, so why am I judging. Again, I need to be independent and accountable for myself. I make “me” happy first. Then I take on another type of happiness that can only come from another soul.

Is anyone ever happy before they take on that second responsibility, I mean is it possible? Happiness wavers like anything else that is in constant motion. Its never the same, its always more or less than the last “happy” and one will never know when it will go next or come back again.

Return of the blog

So it has been quite some time since I have turned to WordPress for therapy purposes. My world has turned upside down since the last entry. I am now more than a year past my most severe episode of depression. My depression began last March (of 2013). My friend said odd years are just that–odd. After the suffering of last year I would have to agree, or I would just have to agree because I would like to hope that “even” years are my breath of fresh air, as 2014 has treated me well. Despite the fact that my future father-in-law died, January 4th of this year, and this event set a dismal tone, the year has reinflated much since his passing. Yes, it is hard for me to empathize with my fiancee as the death of a beloved parent is one which is unfathomable. It is an experience which robs you of your breath- the most coveted and vital activity. Yes, breath-it keeps you going, and if your body can help it-it is an involuntary action. It is the action that carries us. Even when we don’t want to voluntarily chooch our own trains-our pulmonary arteries beg to differ so long as they are provided with ample resources to preservere. 

SO I ramble, let me! Although I cannot mention in my sober speech, this is my dream. My ultimate dream is to be an author. One that can make a living off her words. So my words are raw, and nothing of the late Maya Angelou’s-they are words that mean much to me, and that are my talent. I cannot sing, and though I am somewhat academically inclined in that I have the discipline it takes to pass some courses, I have learned this past semester I am no genius! I do not contain the gene that permits photographic memory, or the gene that allows Steven Hawkins to thrive despite his physical incapabilities. I am human, I like to garden. I like to lay on the beach; I hate to exercise, I love to stay in touch with my siblings, and my parents are my best friends. I enjoy playing tennis if it is an available means of entertainment. I enjoy pretending to know more about wine than I actually do. Lets just say the only thing I excel at (involving the grape) is that I can get to the end of a bottle and still have the nuts and bolts to write a snippet in a blog and somewhat edit it upon posting it.

I enjoy making others feel noticed and appreciated. I thrive off the fact that someone, anybody willing to, can look up to me and say, “She has got her head on her shoulders and I think she can teach me something.” I love my siblings: Joey, Billy, and Julia. They are the extremities that I have been given to help me lift my down-spirits when they cannot peel themselves up from the tar-ridden ground. They are some of the most important reasons I preservere, fight my disease, and push on-even though it is toward a future I am not sure I am destined to lead.

I am currently enrolled in Anatomy and Microbiology. I am not performing stellar-ly in either class-but I am performing. I am facing a fear I have had for over half a century. I have feared that these classes were something I could not follow through with. Here I am 9/10ths through the semester-passing. I can do it. I can do what I set my mind to. I can face my fears and beat them with a stick. I can do.

It feels good and I have no regrets. For now this is my path.

I just want to thank God. I have not been to church in a quite some time. Maybe it has ben six months, but I do believe in a power beyond me. One that has a plan-one that cannot be foreseen for we are too limited to comprehend. We are only strapped with the capability to have faith. I have recently learned how to maintain faith. I know I will need boosters to maintain my faith-as sometimes we are thrown curve balls that may cause these strong feeling of hope to diminish. But I promise God I will never forget the power you returned to the palm of my hands. I will never forget the dignity, the spirit and the honesty you restored to my soul. I prayed hard enough, apparently, and I received. Thank you. I did not want to take my life. I knew that if I continued down the path I was going, eventually it would lead to that being one of my prime options. As for those 8 months that were interrupted by maybe sevens days at most of refuge, I felt agony I have never felt. I felt agony that did not dissipate and if it did it only returned full-fledged. I felt something that was a midpoint between purgatory and hell. It was indescribable. But most importantly, I am no longer there and I know its because you knew in your heart that you had a plan for me. You knew you could work through me or make an example of me. I will listen to you although I may not always participate in the activities you would prefer me to, I will always kep an open mind. I am still human, but I am your child.

 

Though most people DO actually SUFFER from mental illness, it isn’t ALWAYS the case!

Though most people DO actually SUFFER from mental illness, it isn’t ALWAYS the case!

Though I am bipolar, and it is extremely difficult to fight my own battles, surviving my father’s manic episodes have been if not just as difficult, more difficult. I have learned that throughout the years I have developed control issues. … Continue reading