a new day

my sitting and pining seems to spark mainly a flame in my soul which yearns, with each open breath to speak to you and tell you all that I've discovered in just a few days of looking. Looking where? Into my own thoughts, and beliefs, and motives, and behaviors, to see why my life has fallen short of what I want it to be; why I am so hurt, so scared, so lonely, and so confused. Because I pray and I ask to be shown what I can actually do here, right now, to make any sort of anything better. Don't we all come to that moment at times? That moment when I know I have no idea which way to turn, but I know I gotta turn some way, and it feels like the scene of an old movie as i sit at the fork of a dusty dirt road.

my relationship with God has been my only ever peace and resolution in times of absolute doubt. and yet, over and over again I find that it is so hard to trust God. Perhaps about as hard as trusting anyone here as well. But I fight and I cry and I whine when my life doesn't work out the way I want it to... all the while forgetting that I believe in a world where God always provides. I just forget to ask. often.

but, i believe in this world where happiness is a perception deal, and my faith can change my world because it has been my experience in life. i have seen miraculous things I could seldom admit in front of a croud of people, and it is not my place to debate the origin of such miracles. I know it in my heart.
but what's most amazing is that every single time I can turn my heart and my thoughts and my attention to what I can give and do and be - rather than what I need, or did, or can't have - then I am on my way to freedom.

cause i'm starting to realize that my un-checked selfish desires (ooohhh, banan splits, fancy clothes, and love!) might be the biggest reason why I begin to think that my life has fallen short of what I wanted...
which happens sometimes, you know?

there is no need for me to complain. i have everything i need, and whole ton of stuff I want. i am loved and taken care of in every way by myself and my loved ones. no matter what today brings, i hope i can remember just how very grateful i am for every person, every moment, and for the chance to start over at any time of my day or night, to say a quiet prayer and let my mind change.

Almost a month

It's been almost a month since I've set my intentions on writing here, in this digital space where maybe 10-50 people will hear my words spoken within the reiteration of their own mind's reading. Subject to interpretation, of course. But one month, almost, it has been, and today I remembered that I want to write here everyday most importantly for the reason that the release keeps me sane. In this last month, as like always, I have tempered my moods, calming and heightening my affect to suit the likes of the people around me. But for some reason, today, I am more resolved in my heart, and quick in my middle-finger muscle memory. I want to write because I want to live, and that desire doesn't always come so easliy or genuinely to a bipolar chic like me. But today?

Today I am sitting in the midst of my own broken heart. A dream I had just yesterday seems suddenly to be unreal. The person for whom my heart yearns decided to walk away, and I am still here. Living today despite the horrible possibility that the only script I'd ever written concerning love, is turning in to a bigger flop than any J Lo theatrical disaster. So I sit, and I cry, and I cry, and I cry, and I tell myself one hundred thousand times to stop thinking whatever it is I happen to be thinking at that moment which is most abundantly along the lines of self-hating, pessimistic, hateful, pitiful, and martyrdom. That's just how I roll.

See, the deal with being bipolar is that most often my thoughts and my emotions are guided by forces and chemicals outside of my control, and often outside of my awareness. I do not know that I am abnormal; frequently the only barometer for my whackyness will be the looks and attitudes of the people around me as I blow through conversations like a hurricane, or melt into emotional mush on their feet. In fact, not until I have begun to silently implode on my bathroom floor in a pool of my own thoughts and fears do I start to catch the idea that I'm suffering from something that I just don't understand.

Maybe this is why my heart is broken.