It's amazing how I can write these posts, these beautiful words (That's right, I just complimented myself ... now somebody give me my damn gold star!) ... I can put all my thoughts into a tiny post and my feelings are so evident.
I type them. I post them. I forget about them.
I've been doing this for years actually. Used to do it on paper. I'd write brilliantly about my insanity only to forget about it for days until the next phase of crazy whooshed in.
How does our minds do that? How do we forget our misery so easily?
Every time I've had baby fever I'm utterly amazed at the fact that I can no longer recall the pain of child birth. Oh, I KNOW it hurt. Everyone KNOWS it hurts. But somehow my mind has blocked out the fact that it really hurt so much I wouldn't want to do it again. IN FACT, my mind rationalizes the pain and focuses on the excitement of the day. Being in labor is so fabulously suspenseful and full of hope. Who wouldn't want to be privy to that kind of excitement?
Have you recently had a baby? Cuz if so I'm pretty sure you're calling me a frocking idiot right now!
Having babies shoot out your crotch hurts. So much in fact you can't even walk for days. And then the babies cry and they cry and they cry and they ... oh yeah, and then they grow up and talk back and yell and hate you even though you spent hours pushing them out of that crotch just to give them life.
But I see a tiny baby and I forget all that misery.
Just the same, I can stand in the midst of a hypomanic attack or even just a flipping awesome ass day and completely forget all the words I've written here about the awful woes of being bipolar. Right now I'm focused on Seattle and money is so much better than it was a month ago (regardless if it still sucks!) and half the laundry is folded and awe ... cute new puppy!
And I've temporarily forgotten the post I wrote the day before Easter (or was it on Easter?). And I've temporarily forgotten the beautiful prose of I so effortlessly created back in January explaining my frozen state of mind/body/soul. And I've conveniently forgotten that four years ago I was living in a miniature ghetto about to make the mistakes of a lifetime after having just made a million previous mistakes only days/weeks/months ago.
It's as if my mind erases the bad because it doesn't want to scare away the good.
But it's always temporary.
It's only a matter of time before my forgetful me turns into the dreadful monster who sees only black and feels only gray. Then I'll go back and I'll read those old journals, or partake in these past posts and I'll remember.
I'll remember the agony of a broken mind.
I'll remember the despair of a bleeding soul.
I'll remember the emptiness of a broken heart.
I'll remember.
But until them, whether I choose to or not, I'll remain in this pleasant world of forgetfulness. Oh how I wish I could stay here forever. How I wish I could look back on my beautiful words with such casual eyes and brush it off as just another moment that made me stronger.
Sometimes I just wish I could be the forgetful me forever.
