Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Giving Thanks

 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. It's a strictly American holiday in which we celebrate the blessings of of lives. It was originally a day for the Pilgrims to mark their survival in the colonies. It was thanks to the Native Americans or Indigenous peoples of the colonies that helped them survive. What did we give them in return? We gave them disease and stole their land. It's a harsh truth that most White people want to wash over like so much of history that they find unpleasant. But, in fact, when the colonists came they seemed to think that they had divine rights to the land that we call America. The natives were savages that had to be eradicated one way or another. So we either killed them or shuffled them towards the west. We stole their gold, and pushed them out of their way of life. 

Now, I am not trying to be un-American. But I think we need to look at our history for what it is. The Atlantic Passage brought the slave trade to America. It can safely be said that not one black person in this country has ancestors that are native to this country unless they have native blood running through their veins. The colonist wiped out about 60% of the native population by the time they were through and "imported" about 5 million Africans. 

Does that make me less than American? To the racist, I guess it does. But, I did not ask to come here. My ancestors did not come to America to seek a better life. They were kidnapped and brought here by force for slave labor. Blacks have endured 400 years of slavery and 150 years of discrimination. We had to fight in the courts just to be declared a whole person by the American government. 

I can't really say why I am talking about this, it's just that sometimes being an American is embarrassing. The history of this country, especially the treatment of other races is based on white supremacy. Right now, there is a movement to turn back the accomplishments of civil rights workers in all cases. The government has gotten increasingly openly racist. It's always been racist, but now it seems that it's okay to be a racist if you say that you are being a "patriot." 

I'm all for national pride, you understand, but why can't all of us, black, white, brown, yellow and red be proud Americans? Why can't we continue to fight for our dreams? What is the white man so afraid of anyway? Doe he think we are going to line them up and shoot them? Is he afraid that we will put them in camps like they did to the Japanese, and now doing to the Latino? Should white people have to carry their citizenship papers around proving they were born here? And if not, should they be exported back to their country of origin, especially if they are criminals? Maybe he is afraid. Maybe he is terrified of what would happen if he lost power and had to kowtow to another race. 

I happen to believe that we should be enforcing the human race, but that is neither here nor there. If the animals ever got wise and rose up we'd all be done for anyway. Then we would be slaughtered and packaged for consumption. 

So, keeping that all in mind. Give thanks for your current freedoms. Give thanks for your family and friends. If you have a job, food and a roof over your head, give thanks for that. I will be giving thanks for all that and the love I have in my life. You never know when it can all be taken away. 

Peace, Joy, Love-B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Shape of My Heart

 

So, I have hung up my dating shoes. I had taken a break from the dating sites in hopes of meeting someone the natural way. That went over like a cement balloon in a wind storm. I am and have decided to remain terminally single. 

Not that I mind all that much. The selection of men on the sites is questionable at best. Most of them are old homophobes who think they are God's gift to womankind. Reading some of the profiles was shocking due to their out and out hostility. Some were laughable. The lack of education is quite apparent. This on the profiles of those who claim to have a college degree! Other men want nothing but sex. I suppose I must give them credit for their honesty, but that's not what I'm looking for right now. In fact, sex is far from my mind these days. 

What do I want? I want romance. I think I deserve to be swept off my feet. I want to be impressed by a man. I want him to want to be with me and spend time with me. I want someone to walk into a room and turn on some music and grab me for a slow dance. I need good conversation and a great sense of humor. I don't think I am asking too much. 

The way things are going, I will never meet anyone. I had decided a while ago that I will spend my life alone before getting into a substandard relationship. I guess I will just have to be content being an old maid. It be different I guess if I weren't so poor. I think I'd be more dynamic if I had money. Money makes the world go around after all. If I were a truly independent woman, I don't think I would even worry about being alone. 

The heart is my favorite shape. It makes me feel good. It reminds me of love. Not so much of the kind of love that 2 people share, but the love that I share with God. It helps me remember that I am loved and always have been. My own heart has been ripped to shreds and pieced back together on several occasions. However, joy still beats within it. While I am alone, I still have hope. I suppose that is the most important thing. I love myself, which is the greatest love of all. I just wish I could share it with someone. Until then, I guess I'll just spread it around to all I come in contact with, even at work. 

Peace, Joy and most of all, LOVE 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: It's that Time of Year

 

Okay, so my rage against the holiday season has ended. In a big way too. I've been watching Christmas romantic comedies for the past 2 weeks. They've been quite enjoyable too. Granted they are a little corny and I know it's going to work out for the heroine, but still I like them. I mean after all, it's the time of year for the world to fall in love. 

Christmas for most people is a great time of year. You seem to feel happy for no apparent reason, you smile at strangers and little kids are especially cute and adorable. Even the music is good. I'm listening to Christmas music right now. I love decorating for the holidays. I love having a colorful tree and sitting up at night to watch the lights twinkle. 

You see, when I was growing up, we didn't have much. But my parents went all out at Christmas. We asked for things and just hoped they were under the tree on Christmas morning. I never cared about the presents anyway. I just like to see everyone happy on that day. I love to buy gifts for people. I like trying to find out what they really want and get it if I can afford it. I just love seeing the faces of recipients when they open the present. I don't do it for glory or praise. I do it to make them truly happy. 

I already have my gift giving wish list for this year. I'm just hoping I can afford it. We owe and I owe so much money to so many people it's a hot mess. I don't really care anymore. I have figured out that credit scores are a scam. The government is so in debt and yet they have the nerve to tell me I can't borrow money when they owe trillions. 

I've picked out my Christmas cards on Amazon. Erica is encouraging me to use Etsy instead of Amazon in order to support small businesses. Usually, I have found Etsy to be expensive, but I did take a look yesterday and found a few things I actually like. I'll take a look there for the cards. I only need about 15 anyway. I don't send out many cards anymore. Postage is ridiculous. 

I don't really want anything for Christmas. I need a new printer. I'd like a zebra print purse from Dooney & Burke. It's on sale right now, but I really can't afford it. I have the electric, car insurance and phone to pay. Plus, I need to give April money for the storage unit. We have to pay it by December 4th otherwise they will auction off our stuff, and we've got some good shit in there. 

I met with a grief counselor on Friday. My therapist thought it would be a good idea, since I am still in mourning for my parents. This time of year is especially hard for me. I miss my mom in the kitchen baking, and I would go visit my dad for his birthday in December and stay through the New Year. It's been a while since they died, but I'm still having a hard time. Not just now, but all the time. It went pretty well. Her name is Carla, and she's very nice and very easy to talk to. We are going to work on how I am processing my grief and get ready for the anniversaries. 

This is the first time in months that I've been able to smile when I think of my parents. Most of the time I cry or get really depressed. I had a suicidal thought last week. I didn't do anything, I just tried to put it out of my mind. I succeeded in doing that by watching a Christmas movie. 

I'm going back on the dating site I think. I will be very discerning regarding my choice. I haven't got time to fool around. I just want a companion right now. No sex, just fun. Then sex, hahaha. I have to figure that out still. I'll give it some more thought. 

Peace, Joy Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Let Her Cry

 

She weeps when there is no one around. In the daytime, the tears fall like rain. No one can see those. Everyone has gone to work. Only the animals see. They gather at her feet and seem to ask her why. Why do you cry? Why are you sad? What can we do? 

The dog licks her toes. The cat climbs on her lap and makes biscuits on her shirt. All the while, she weeps. Does she even know why the tears come? Hot and salty burning her face. Her eyes become raw and achy from the sting of her tears. Sometimes she cries pretty, other times it is an ugly scene. Her nose runs, and voice cracks and she moans with pain of a thousand years of dreams broken. Does she even know why? 

Sometimes she think she knows, but doesn't dare speak it lest she sound too pitiful. Other times, it just seems like the thing to do on those lonely days. Her days are spent alone. Anchored to a desk with a headset connecting her to a world and people she couldn't care less about. She talks for a living. Trying to be cordial and helpful to those who ring through. But in between, she weeps. 

When did her life become so lonely? When did she become so old and jaded? What happened to the smiling girl in the picture when life held such promise? Where did she go? When exactly was the day her mind betrayed her and get so cloudy and muddled? The promises of life were broken. The success she promised herself is a long ago thought now. 

She had wanted to be an educated woman, a doctor. She just knew she would go to college and be a great thinker and doer of things. She would find the love of a good man and have 4 children. She would live in a nice house and be a good wife and mother. Then came the day when that slipped through her fingers and fell to floor crashing into a million tiny pieces that were so unrecognizable no one would be able to put that shattered dream back together. 

She wept all the time then. She didn't remember her dreams. She lived in a nightmare fully awake. Her thought processes became those of despair and death. She believed her mind when it said those things. She was stupid. She was ugly, she was a monster so horrible that no one could possibly like her let alone love her. Who did she think she was anyway? This blob of a girl, this horrid, putrid excuse for a human being? God did not create her. She was a creature from the deepest, coldest crevices of hell. She believed that she was a child of the devil himself. That is how her mind betrayed her. She had always believed her mind before. It had never lied to her, why should it lie now. She would be better off dead. It would have been better if she had never existed. She believed it. So, she wept. 

Now, she knows better. She knows that she is of God, and was created in His image and light. But it is too late for her. She grieves a life that is lost. The life she should have had. All of the time it took for her to find her way back to the light made her too old, too broken and forgotten. She doesn't smile much anymore. She hardly ever sings anymore. She doesn't dream anymore. She merely exists in this world and will continue to do so until her time comes. She now hopes that that time comes soon. She is tired. 

So very tired. Her body aches, and her head hurts. Sometimes, the tears do not fall. But there is a pain in her chest. She knows that it is her heart that weeps. One day to the next she goes about her business. There was a phrase in a movie she's seen many times; Get busy livin or get busy dyin. She no longer knows what to do. She feels it is too late to live, but it is not her time to die. So, she just is. 

That is why she weeps.