Breakfast Run

The air is crisp. Unexpectedly crisp as we edge toward summer in Texas. The cool breeze feels like it should carry the scent of death and cinnamon. Apples and cinnamon. I can feel the heat of the sun trying to break through, to reveal the true nature of the season, but for now the cool trail of a storm lingers. I missed the rain but I can see the puddles.

This is kind of a good metaphor for my life right now. I missed the rain, but I can see the puddles, and I can feel the cool, soothing aftermath. This is the type of weather that should be around when we're reunited. It's the kind of weather I love. I can see the storms on the horizon, begging to come back and over-take the new brilliance of the day, and I hope the winds are strong enough to push them back.

I want to walk freely. I think I might want to run later if I don't get too drunk this morning.

The morning is for art and spirits. Liqueurs.

I have three paintings to finish.

I saw my psychiatrist on Friday so that I could get some documentation for Financial Aid. My irresponsibility seems to always catch up to me, and I always have to find a way around my past. Still, it's good to know I can. It's great to have bridges that can simply be repaired so that we can take the correct way around. They're a little singed, but they'll support. And at this visit I got a letter that for the first time stated clearly: Bipolar II disorder (F31.81) and Generalized anxiety disorder (F41.1). I had been on medication for about three months, that I think is going pretty well, but they hadn't really given me a diagnosis.

There are still some lingering moments where things feel over-whelming and my head rushes with unpleasant questions. Burning, heart-panging, questions that itch until you have been scratching the same place so long you've developed a wound. I know now that this is the anxiety disorder I'm not on medication for. I've got a pill that I can take as needed, but when it's just the pain of questions I try to identify as many I don't need as possible. The ones I can identify as more damaging I am trying to grab and throw into one of the puffs of air that carries away most of my fleeting thoughts. Like I suspect that most things that claim to be triple chocolate are really only double chocolate. This is a thought with no real bearing on my life, but now that I have realized it the betrayal of the world at large lingers on the part of my heart that trusts and blackens it.

This is, of course, absurd. So I take the thought and place it on a leaf to float away down stream as my therapist suggested. The missing dimension of chocolate is unimportant. So too is the past. I have begun to realize that if things can move forward, they should. If you're able to let go of an old problem, why not? Truly, it's how I've lived a lot of my life. I have made a lot of mistakes, but I've kind of rolled with it. I get better jobs. I get better grades. I try to get better as a friend. I try to get better at forgiving...and while I forget pretty naturally, I think I try to hold on to these moments. Not as ammunition, but if things went side-ways there was probably a reason. If you just forget there's no assurance that things will not repeat themselves in perpetuity. I know a few people who can't seem to let go and may be bound to unpleasant situations forever. I don't want that for myself. I can't be trapped in easily escapable circumstances out of love, longing, jealousy or a desire to avoid the feeling of loss. I can't repeatedly shove people out of my life for their mistakes. I just can't. Or, rather, I won't. I won't give myself more reason to be unhappy.

I should mend things with my sister.

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