Loss is Gain

It is Halloween and the veil is thin. Last night Steve saw the ghost of Ellis, the old Galley cat. It has been a surreal time of beautiful weather, good times with friends and meaningful tarot readings. I have begun a journey that seems to be opening my heart. I have realized lately that I do not give myself enough credit for the stress I endure. I don’t know why this is. Reflecting on my psychotic break in 1998 at Mills College and my most recent one in 2016, I can see now so clearly what led to these events. I was doing so much and enduring so much.

At Mills I was far from home, was having trouble settling into friendships, struggling with my identity, taking seven college courses, and partaking in two sports. I would wake at 4am and row crew. I would scramble around campus with a bag stuffed full of heavy books, and then head off to the Oakland Hills in the afternoon to run many miles in the hot San Francisco sun. I of course bonded with my team mates, and did make many connections. But as I began to falter, to lose my grip, I became increasingly isolated. I can look back at the time though in true amazement. I was learning so much, going to concerts and going on dates, and was traveling to conferences and placing in cross country races. But I was far from home. Occasionally I would call but wasn’t connected. It all fell apart, gradually, but I would not acknowledge to myself that things just weren’t quite right. I was swimming. Then I became lost. I ended up in a psych ward, then it was all over. I never even said goodbye to my girlfriend at the time.

And recently, in 2015, I was working more than I have in years. I was selling tacos and working at the Chamber of Commerce. I was suffering with a knee injury and I got really sick with a gut issue. I was hosting company and regularly attending the bar to blow off steam. Looking back I am surprised I was able to handle the load, the constant service to the public, the pain, and the stress on my mind and body. It all led to it falling apart for the first time in 9 years. The meditations and long baths all winter long were not enough to recover from the busy summer, and the next thing I knew, the buds were pushing from the trees with their gentle forceful awakening, and spring was upon us with her strange intoxicating transition. The next thing I knew I was fantasizing about spiders, and the election news was getting to me. I turned the screen on my computer upside down and contracted electronic viruses. I thought the machines were sentient, and I was talking to ghosts in my mind. I was screaming and yelling, I was crying and sobbing. It was a mess. I had just pushed my sensitive creative being over the edge and I didn’t even realize it. I was lost in the intoxicating blur of being successful, busy and productive. I was so proud of work and my many friends.

And now, on a subtle level of realizing my patterns, I just worked for three months pushing myself to my limit after seeing Steve through a major surgery and going through a really difficult medications change. I contracted a flu that still lingers after three weeks, and I was becoming emotionally fragile. This led to a few arguments and a few outbursts, some random sobbing and some general feeling of things just not being right. I have been okay, and I have been making some breakthroughs with looking at my internal workings.

So I am taking a break. Work was good for my bank account, but not so much for my life in general. I also have not quite been the same since 2016 and I cant explain it but I just am more sensitive to stress. It is like the proverbial two by four that has been after me since 1998 finally broke through and I am able to listen and finally let the universe pull me in the direction that I am prone to naturally, I am a creative artist. I feel there might be more time for ambling musically, playing guitar to myself, making a painting and writing my memoir. I see myself with my niece who I could just not seem to make time for before. Life just seems to have a gentle flow, like jazz. I have heard that things can really change with mental disabilities like bipolar disorder and schizoaffective disorder as we age. I am having to adjust to this, to things just not being the same for me. I am not as resilient as I was in my twenties, and I am no longer able to avoid my fate. The fact of the matter is however, that I have gained a lot of wisdom, and it is finally time for me to just start living my life by my own terms. I need to listen, really listen to my inner workings. I need to take care of myself emotionally, spiritually, and mentally as well as physically. It is great. It is fine. I feel like I am finally growing into myself, into this person, this illness that has been chasing me around the block for two decades trying to tell me something. And I know there is still purpose and work for me. It is just perhaps in the form of creativity, in not holding an actual job. We will work it out financially. I am not going to start worrying about money. I may have to live without, but really I have gained so much.