Holding My Own

The crazy knocked on the door over the weekend but by yesterday I felt more solid. Productive, too. And Bex has been helping out and I haven’t even had to put a gun to her head.It’s awesome. Already she has proven more interesting and useful than both of the idiots I married. If it weren’t for that whole thing where I like men and she likes women…Though she seems to be sitting around waiting for everything to turn to shit and us to try to kill each other and it irks me. That level of pessimism is MY forte, goddamn it.

It occurred to me that I may not actually be slipping. My Paxil was increased and the dose split into twice a day so my system is adjusting to that. It’s bound to make things unstable for a little while. The heat and my kid when she channels satan are major stressors, too, so no doubt that fucks with me head.

All in all..It’s working out beyond my wildest expectations. I’ve never clicked so completely with a person. We can sit in the same room and talk or just be quiet and click away on our keyboards. Sometimes we even send IM’s when we’re six feet away from each other. It’s funny. I’ve even let her use my computer. I didn’t even let husbands touch my computers. They were threats. They were unworthy. Bex does not give me bad vibes or heebie jeebies. That matters. She’s not judged me, not once complained about my messy house or the stampede of cats. She is sawsome that way. I have never been so happy to have been wrong about someone. I mean, it wasn’t without basis, my own mom says I live in squalor and my home is a dump. To be so harshly judged by people who claim to love you, it’s hard not to expect the same from others who come from a different country and socioeconomic background.

I was wrong. And it’s excellent to be wrong.

It’s also excellent to be able to breathe in the presence of another. I normally sit around waiting for people to leave, nervous and bored and irate that they are distracting me from living inside my head with their stupid reality. It’s not like that now. Companionable silence, chat when it happens naturally…I guess that is how it is for everyone else all the time. It’s never been like this for me before. People have always been an irritant, like a brillo pad to the skin. Of course, this is the first time in my life I have interacted with someone who has the mood crashes and anxiety issues I do.  It makes all the difference in the world when you can be sullen and quiet or leave the room to regroup without an interrogation and oh woe is me “what did i do to piss you off now” spiel. FFS, mood swings are not personal when you have bipolar. Nice someone else gets that.

I have written 40 pages in three days. With Spook and her friends running riot and Bex here and cats everywhere. It’s all just clicking. If I could avoid the abrupt mood crashes and anxiety, it would be, dare I say, happy fun ball territory.

Just gotta watch my back. Crazy can come knocking at any time.


One Response to “Holding My Own”

  1. imptiness Says:

    I am not one to say I told you so… So… I won’t… Just know that, I love you and I don’t judge those I love. I love that you and I have hit it off and are continuing to do so. The short jokes make so much more sense when we are in the same room.

    The future is looking up, I have been more stable than I have in months, and I think it’s down to you… But don’t quote me on that. My brain changes its mind like the kid changes topic of conversation.

    Now, go put the kettle on wench..

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