Some people worry about angels and devils. I’m fully in the angel camp, and I know they never quite let me fall off the cliff, but it is not in their power to completely protect me from who I am. That’s my job, and it isn’t an easy one. I think, even given decades of therapy, from 18 until today at nearly 67, and having had wonderful astute therapists of every stripe (psychologists, psychiatrists, licensed counselors and every other kind of healing professional one might go to for peculiar mental health issues that have run sometimes rampant through a lifetime.) the reason, even though I had been diagnosed as bipolar many years back now, that I KNOW I am bipolar is that I can look back over a lifetime and see that I have always had to deal with these 2 “characters,” the 2 sides of myself which sometimes war against one another, or sometimes not warring against one another, one just goes to sleep for awhile. In any case, whoever is onboard on any particular day will be guiding the ship and it is my job to work hard to take the wheel and guide myself back toward the center. Is it the Inchworm today? Oh God help me please, it’s not the Flying Squirrel is it?
Sigh… over the weekend it was the Flying Squirrel.
You see it was the Inchworm on my shoulder when I started last week my sketchbook play, having so much fun, really delightful, it supported both Maisie and I and we were thrilled. I was having so much fun, but then — can you feel the earth start to tremble beneath my feet? Unfortunately I couldn’t, typical bipolar disassociation with facts, reality, and just plain common sense — I STARTED HAVING TOO MUCH FUN! AND IT WAS INTENSE! AND THE FLYING SQUIRREL TOOK THE WHEEL…
Heavy sigh…
What that means is that what turned from gentle play, healthy, good for me personally and wonderful for my work, turned into that intense, out-of-control way of being that shouts in my ear “OH THIS IS WONDERFUL! LET’S START A NEW TIER ON PATREON FOR THIS SKETCHBOOK ORACLE BUSINESS! LET’S DO AN ECOURSE! THIS WILL BE THE THING THAT WILL MAKE YOU RICH AND FAMOUS AND YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING EVER AGAIN! LET’S DO IT!!!”
Shaking head sadly…
And so I did. I created the new tier on Patreon, I created a widget for it for this website, I let Patrons on Patreon know that — YAY!!!! I CREATED YET ANOTHER NEW TIER!!! (They have seen me create and take down other tiers, God bless them, but they know I have a good heart and work hard and are just unbelievably kind, loving, and supportive of me.) — and I wrote a blog post about it and I sent the GOOD NEWS out all over social media. (When the Flying Squirrel is in charge there is no such thing as too big, too much, or too soon.) I went to bed excited and glowing. My God how brilliant was I? I just couldn’t believe my good luck in hitting upon the ONE thing that could make EVERYTHING fantastic! I was beaming…
And then I woke up in the middle of the night, the Flying Squirrel had vanished, and I was there with my bloomers around my ankles ashamed and embarrassed and the Inchworm was shaking her head sadly… “Oh girlfriend, NOT again. That BASTARD!” And I lived through the next few hours afraid, actually horrified, positively worn out from this ongoing battle to stay balanced and sane and just plain okay but the Inchworm was there to help me.
I finally fell asleep for awhile and then got up, removed the tier on Patreon, the widget on the website, the blogpost, all of the posts all over social media and I just nearly fell in a heap in my chair, panting with relief. I had survived one more Flying Squirrel episode again, but the thing is I DID go through it, and now there was the embarrassment of having shouted to the world that I had A FABULOUS IDEA. I had to clean up after myself and try to explain about the Inchworm and The Flying Squirrel. No one really understands bipolar disorder unless they are bipolar, and everyone’s bipolary bits manifest in different ways, so that no one can quite get a handle on what it all means. This blog post is my attempt at perhaps making it a wee bit clearer for some folks, and also, yet again, doing my bit to clean up my side of the street.
The thing is that being bipolar cannot be medicated away. I have been and am currently on medication, have been for some time, will most likely be for the rest of my life. I have the most wonderful therapist in the world that I see every single week and have for years, but the thing is, while those things help it is my job to utilize every tool in my toolbox of vigilant self-care, and most important of all, not to punish myself for the times when the Flying Squirrel appears again and wreaks havoc. He never hurts anyone else, and while I used to have horrible long spells of depression after such an episode because it was so unbelievably embarrassing and I was so ashamed, now I can look at myself kindly, and say to myself, “Oh you poor dear, he got in again, well, that’s okay, it will be alright, we can fix this.” And we do, that higher part of myself that looks after me, which, of course, I have realized not so very long ago, is Maisie. Maisie is the best part of me, my higher self, my spirit guide, my angel, and she is always there. Drawing and painting her, creating her world and doing her book, is what is keeping me safe, and as sane as I will ever be, and she is responsible for me getting up, dusting myself off, cleaning up my mess, and moving forward, and knowing that despite it all I am loved, deeply loved, and I love deeply in return, and I do work very hard and I do care very much, and this is not a life I would ever choose for myself or anyone given the choice, but being bipolar also has it’s gifts, my expansive creativity happens somewhere between the Inchworm and the Flying Squirrel and there are long periods of time when I can work in peace. But I cannot act as if they are both not always at the edge of my being. I have to remain vigilant in my self-care practices, therapy, and every other way I need to take care of myself, and I do. I do my best.
Being a bipolar artist is a constant stream of expanding and contracting, learning and growing, living my life, doing my work, and being the best person that I can. That is my job. It is not, I must state this here, a matter of wishing or hoping or praying that the bipolar disorder will go away. That is not productive, and it is certainly not kind. I am bipolar along with a handful of other mental health issues, but Maisie is always here to help me and she and I are a good team. I am grateful, and I will continue to move forward, perhaps a tad topsy-turvy, cattywompus and lopsided, but that’s okay, I don’t mind that. I have a good life, a wonderful, if odd to most people, little life here at Dragonfly Cottage, and yes, I am deeply grateful.
Now it is time to kiss Molly on the nose, and we will go out on the deck for some fresh air, and she will see if maybe this time, just this one time, she can catch a squirrel. We never give up on some things.