Community. I have never really felt it before. Normally I feel isolated with in my art. I don’t connect well with people at times. Few actually notice, but I always feel like there is a glass wall between the world and myself. Those times I do connect I treasure more than any gems in the entire world. I am not sure if this is the Autism, the disability factor, or if it is merely the fact that I am more intellectual than emotional. I grew up and the kids who knew what Star Trek was would either call me a witch or a Vulcan.
I never minded being compared to a race of highly logical beings with control over their emotions, though I still do not think I do. I cry sometimes, I laugh, I feel anger and can show it. I believe that makes me just human. Humans are over all herd animals. Looking at the way we bunch up into groups, I think of horses and wolves. Humans are rarely wolves. They like to think they are, they like to try and hunt. The majority of humans flee at the sign of a threat. This doesn’t mean much of anything really but I don’t run well and have never understood that.
recently I reached a crisis internally and literally. I took a medication that caused me to experience a manic mood swing. I am not Bipolar but I know people who are. I now have so much more empathy for what can occur in the brain. I had no control. I couldn’t hide any irritation and it came out as not just anger but wrath. The type of wrath that causes Biblical Smiting. Happiness was minimized and sorrow was at an extreme. I even had suicidal thoughts.
Thankfully I am very secure with in my desire to be alive. My response to feeling that I should kill myself is always the same, and apparently is a core part of my identity. The response is this: “If I want the easy way out I can die, but then I won’t get to annoy my (insert person who caused child hood traumas here) by succeeding.” Followed by, “Plus then Sprite would kill herself.” Yes, I believe my cat would actually commit suicide.
She would probably eat a bird to follow me to the wherever we go after. She’s my life partner and my fiance even knows that she is a priority because she brings stability. Still this medication that changed the entire way my brain worked, it caused her to go to him for comfort when I could not hold her. I could not pet her. I wanted to but it felt like I was petting acid covered glass. It turned out I was having physical hallucinations.
During this two week long process, most of this spent trying to recover my normal self from the tattered ruins of InsanoKat Time, I learned how much I prize a few people. The entire point of writing this post is to share that. The people I prize are a mix of those I know online and those that I know offline.
I prize the Overgrounders, because despite being unable to access my internal creativity, I wasn’t told that I was a poser, instead I was reminded that everyone has writers block or a downswing in creativity at times. I was encouraged. As a result, when my creativity returned I created. I drew pictures that look like what I intended.
I prize both toastmasters groups I am a part of. TVC and Borboleta Safari both allowed me to miss a few meetings, and were safe places to make myself function anyway. I hesitated at first, but realized that my brain might not return to normal. The risk with mind altering medications is that the effects can be permanent. This is a huge reason as to why I am anti drug. My anti drug? Sanity.
My fiance, despite having his own issues springing up during this entire debacle supported me. We had some issues but I believe the kinks are working themselves out.
There are more people that I could list here but I don’t want to mimic the Academy awards. I am relieved to find my sense of humor returning. Having your sanity infringed upon is a great way to learn what is important to you, and I learned that my sense of humor really does make every day living better. If I can find a moment of humor, then the pain is diminished. When I couldn’t my pain felt worse.
Everything felt worse. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could’t think. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. It was a loop of failure. I failed before I tried because I did not see the point in trying. I was aware of my true self, the self that writes this but I couldn’t seem to connect to it. I could hear the soft whispers of “Oh don’t be silly, of course it’s funny that you stumbled and it looked like dancing.” I could hear the whispers of, “Wouldn’t it be great if we tried writing just a little?” I couldn’t seem to reply however.
I felt like I was two separate people. Two people so opposing to one another that they deadlocked.
I am back. I am changed. Perhaps this is the butterfly escaping it’s cocoon, for who says that we as humans cannot be caterpillars, returning to larvae periodically to grow again. A unique mental life cycle that few can appreciate. I am not sure I appreciate this experience but i do appreciate growing from it.
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