Present Day, April 5th, 2020

FURLOUGH – day 6B

What is the difference between a bad person with Bipolar, and a person that Bipolar makes bad? Surely there are pitiful excuses for human beings who also happen to have a mental illness, just as well as there are people with a mental illness that turns them into a pitiful excuse for a human being. But how do I know which one I am? You know, am I an asshole at my very core who carries the added burden of being Bipolar, or does having Bipolar turn me into the asshole that I am so often perceived as?

Is there a difference? Or does it even make a difference if there is?

There is no doubt that whichever the case, we are just nine days into quarantine and I have worn out my welcome in my own home. My wife and I just completed an argument that concluded with my declaration that “this will be the end of us.” Not like a sarcastic, tongue in cheek, laugh it off because we all know we will get through this kind of declaration. More of an authentic, there does not seem to be any other way around it, things are rapidly disintegrating type of declaration. And that is because the general tone of the argument was the same as it has been for years: I am the problem. Or I have the problem. Which one it is I do not know or am unwilling to admit to myself.

There is an inherent danger with second marriages, of which this is mine. The danger is that arguments and disputes will reveal faults in you that have always existed. Behaviors, attitudes, actions that are not new to marriage number two. These revelations can ferment over time, and leave you aware that no matter how much you may have ascribed the break up of your first marriage to your spouse…you were the problem all along. You were the one with the character flaws. You were the one with the personality problems. You were the one with the issues that broke things apart. And then you are left back at the question, am I just a dick with a disease or a decent person with a disease that is causing me to behave like a dick?

Honestly, I think the answer to the question is irrelevant. People have expectations for my behavior regardless of any mitigating factors, and I suppose that is fair enough as there are only a handful of people in my life who even know I have a mental illness. They have no basis for compassion or understanding. They just see me as I am and draw their own conclusions.

But even with the people that know. Even with the people who love me. Even with them, there is a limited ability to understand what it is like to live inside my head and to act out life as a grown adult operating with this mind. There is a limited ability to differentiate the parameters of the question. To decide if I am just a “normal” person who is being unkind or someone who has lost the ability to function as a “normal” person. Even with those closest to me, there is a limit in either their choice or ability to accept that not everything that comes from me is by choice. At least, not by my choice.

So where does that leave me? I am an individual whose behavior is found to intolerable by those closest to him. I am an individual with a mental illness that is difficult at best to control and almost impossible under current circumstances. I am an individual who feels incapable of being the person I wish I could be.
Again, I think the answer is irrelevant. Because in the end, I am just the bad person. I am just the dick.

June 17th, 2017 – Musical Truths

When I was six years old I broke my leg
I was running from my brother and his friends
And tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down

I was younger then
Take me back to when

I found my heart and broke it here
Made friends and lost them through the years
And I’ve not seen the roaring fields in so long
I know I’ve grown
But I can’t wait to go home

I’m on my way
Driving at 90 down those country lanes
Singing to “Tiny Dancer”
And I miss the way
You make me feel
And it’s real
When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes
Running from the law through the backfields and getting drunk with my friends
Had my first kiss on a Friday night
I don’t reckon that I did it right

I was younger then,
Take me back to when

We found weekend jobs, when we got paid
We’d buy cheap spirits and drink them straight
Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long
Oh, how we’ve grown
But I can’t wait to go home

I’m on my way
Driving at 90 down those country lanes
Singing to “Tiny Dancer”
And I miss the way
You make me feel
And it’s real
When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill
Over the castle on the hill
Over the castle on the hill

One friend left to sell clothes
One works down by the coast
One had two kids but lives alone
One’s brother overdosed
One’s already on his second wife
One’s just barely getting by
But these people raised me
And I can’t wait to go home

And I’m on my way
I still remember these old country lanes
When we did not know the answers
And I miss the way
You make me feel
And it’s real
When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill
Over the castle on the hill
Over the castle on the hill