Ambivalent: An Ode to Self

I had no idea that for so long I did not know what that word actually meant. And, tragically, I went so long without knowing there was a word for the way I always feel. For the constant conflict inside between completely different emotions, between emotions and logic, between empathy and the angry weight of living...the conflict of self-compassion and extreme guilt.

It's frustrating not to know how to feel.

I'm on new medication though. I am apparently a little bi-polar. Maybe bi-polar II, says my therapist, but my psychiatrist didn't care to give a solid diagnosis. He just asked if anyone had ever suspected, then told me we'd try mood stabilizers. I've been on them for 5 days and my sleep has become unstable, but I have been more productive- I don't know how I feel...but I have never known how I feel.

I was so worried that if I ever went on medication I would lose myself. Maybe my perspective would drastically change? I wouldn't want to do the "artistic" things I want to do now? I wouldn't be creative? My thoughts would be structured and my heart quiet...but I have grown to realize that I don't know that I knew myself up until now. I've been so lost in this duality.

So afraid to accept anything I feel. And this fighting, I think, has led me down a lot of weird roads.

Now I just go walking in the evening. In the mist. And it occurs to me that a lot of people are like the rain. Some people are generous, sunny, drizzles. The kind of summer rain that makes you want to throw on something bright, play a fun song and frollck like a child in love. Most people start as this deeply soothing storm. A fleeting experience that makes the sun of regular life feel that much brighter. A kindness that gives you an even deeper appreciation for the generosity that is available if you're open to it. The kind of rain that perks up flowers and opens up the world.
But people evolve. Relationships change...and that rain can quickly go sideways. Sometimes that feeling, the overwhelming feeling of a hard pulsing storm, can still be warm. Can hug you in a way that feels pleasantly like you're drowning. You know it's probably not a good idea to stay out in it, but it's hard to talk yourself into moving. It's easy to convince yourself you've found some privacy. A place all your own, in that rain, like you're naked in a shower. I think I thrive in that rain. I get greedy and throw myself into it. But I can't be satisfied, so I fight it as well. Dare it to move on.
Then it dissipates into a lonely fog. A mist. Uncomfortable and confusing.
Or it becomes a torrent.

I have recently realized that some people are an angry storm. They rage, they flood things with their emotions, they destroy things without remorse, and they can't be reasoned with. They're an overwhelming cluster of the deepest gray and they refuse to acknowledge that they are what brings the strong winds that cause chaos. They refuse to believe they played a part in throwing over buildings, shattering lights, warping signs, and causing distress in anyone else's life because their precipitation takes precedence. They make it hard to breathe. Then they leave, and thunder in their wake. Crashing curses that blame the ruin in the people around them. A storm doesn't know any better, but I have come to realize it's okay to be angry at it for it's inability to acknowledge the part it plays. It's okay to let go of my sense of guilt, because I saw the storm in action before. I knew what those clouds could do and I trusted them to curve around my path. It's okay that it hit head-on. It's okay and it's okay to acknowledge that it is not my fault. At least not in it's entirety.

And then I go back to figure out the fog. To see if I can find a better friend in it. And break that up with sunny showers, hoping to move on.


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