Missing you is like...

It's like writing a song. Where the memories are like music, beautiful and vibrant and it comes to your mind unannounced; but the lyrics are so hard to write because you can't quite figure out what you want to say.

It's like driving. It's so natural when it's been practiced for such a long time. It's second nature, as easy as breathing. And yet, there's a fear and nervousness about it every time you get behind the wheel. And as much as you know how to do this, you can't help the feelings.

It's like dreaming. You're conscious enough to remember, but not conscious enough to stop it from playing in your head.

It's like a blizzard. Small at first, like one small flake, one tiny memory, and slowly builds. You don't notice it building until the ground is covered in white and gray.

It's like falling. And the moments I laugh at our happy memories are the tiny bursts of air resistance keeping me from plummeting just that must faster into the asphalt.

It's like setting a fire in the rain. Small drops of hope and happiness fall around it but aren't strong enough to extinguish the destructive wildfire.

It's like drowning. And the small bursts of reprieve are just enough air to keep me from dying until the waves crash over me again and pull me under.

Lucky 🍀

If I could bring you back
Even just for a day
I’d quiet all the noise
And listen to what you had to say
I’d take the day off work
I’d fill my tank to the top
We’d drive to all the places
We never did get a chance to stop
I’d drive us to Pittsburgh
Under the bridge from Perks
The book we’d quote like scripture
One of our secret little quirks

If I could bring you back
Even just for a day
I’d spend every second
Trying to convince you to stay
We’d listen to our favorite songs
And talk like Emerson and Thoreau
We’d scream all the lyrics
And I’d beg you not to go
We’d walk through the graveyard
Like so many times we had before
We made tales up about the people
The souls no one visited anymore
We talked to these strangers
As if they were our friends
It hurt us that they were forgotten
And this was where their legacy ends

If I could bring you back
Even just for a day
We’d go party with our friends
And drink our beers in The Hideaway
We’d talk like we used to do
About our sadness and our dreams
We’d get drunk off Irish whiskey
And watch the stars as they’d gleam
We’d talk about the future
And space and time and the world
As the Earth continues spinning
We'd be left standing still
We’d talk about the profound
The ghosts we always tried to hide
We’d talk about our demons
And the fears we push aside
You’d tell me wild theories
Warm and comforting like sunshine
Your heart was always so full of love
You could always read between the lines

If I could bring you back
Even just for a day
I’d do anything for that chance
If it meant you didn’t slip away
We’d get a table at the diner
At some long hour of the night
Our last day almost over
You’d tell me it’s going to be alright
I’d tell you that you were loved
Something it seems you always knew
But knowing is not the same as feeling
If only you could’ve loved yourself, too
I’d give anything I had
To not have it end this way
If I could bring you back
Even just for a day

Mania Resurfacing

It started about five days ago. After a very busy and exhausting day at work, I thought I'd have no trouble at all falling asleep. My legs ached, and my eyes felt heavier than bricks. I slipped under the covers around eleven and opened my book, as reading usually relaxes me into a good sleep. My feet wouldn't stop moving, twitching. I tossed and turned, changed my clothes from sweats to shorts, then was too cold and switched to sweats again. I couldn't stop thinking of a particular customer from that day, so I wrote a blog, thinking maybe my mind just couldn't settle down. One Thirty AM. I turned off all lights in my room, rearranged my sheets and pillows, and put on my light deflecting sleeping mask. I jostled around some more. After some time, I peeked out from the mask to see the clock. Two Thirty AM. I finally gave into the idea that I might not be sleeping any time soon. I took a quick shower and put on an episode of Nurse Jackie. The last time I looked at the clock, it read four AM.

Sunday was pretty similar, except I fell asleep around three. Monday I fell asleep around ten PM, and I thought maybe I had kicked insomnia and it was nothing to worry over. Then on Tuesday, I decided to make potato soup, because the weather definitely called for it. I had to do the dishes in order to have enough pans and such to cook as well as have room in the sink. After the dishes were done, I decided to clean the stove before I messed it up again. Which turned into cleaning out the old food in my refrigerator, which turned into cleaning the refrigerator, which turned into cleaning the floor, which turned into cleaning the baseboards and then the walls. Before I knew it, it was almost 8pm, and I still hadn't started the soup. Yesterday, I decided I would just clean my mirror, which turned into cleaning the sink, then the toilet, then the tub, then the living room, then dusting my bedroom. In what seemed like a minute, it was 930pm. I took a sleeping pill and drifted off.

I arrived home today just over an hour ago, and tomorrow is garbage day. I dragged the garbage can to the street, grabbed the stack of mail, and walked into the house. I decided today sounded like a good day for vegetarian chili. I needed to clean my ladle in the sink, so it only made sense to do all the dishes. While the water was warming up, I decided I'd vacuum. I had the idea though that I'd lay Arm and Hammer powder carpet odor eliminator. I sprinkled it in every room, and while it sat, continued to do the dishes. I realized I left a glass of water in my bedroom, so I went to retrieve it. But before I did that, I fixed my bedding (the dog jumps on it and ruins it all day long). Then I picked up his toys, changed my Scentsy wax, and finally picked up the glass. I finished cleaning the dishes and began to vacuum. After vacuuming the carpet, I decided to vacuum the couch. Which turned into folding the blankets, which turned into cleaning my closet and organizing my shoes and cleaning off the kitchen table. Which turned into cleaning my humidifier, which after wiping off the outside, I thought, "Why not take it apart completely, and clean the entire thing inside and out?"I finished the humidifier, came back to the vacuum to wrap the cord and put it away. I started to notice the spare room and all the Christmas decorations that should be organized in their totes. I thought they might be better sorted, organized by room maybe? Or perhaps by size, shape, or material? I sat down to the stack of mail while I pondered how to best tackle that room.
Bills, advertisements, bills, magazines. I opened a magazine called Seventh Avenue, which if you aren't aware, is a sales catalog that gives you sort of a 'store credit', that's insanely expensive and is totally NOT worth it. I'm looking through, and I start to find things I like. After finding a couple of items that are nice, I decide to get a marker and mark them, just for fun. Before I know it, I'm looking into the payments and credit option and thinking, "It's not THAT bad. I do NEED this. I can afford this if I...", and then I see the spare room again. I realize at this moment while holding the magazine and feeling my heart race and the anxiety rise over the organization of the Christmas decorations, that I'm manic.

Through stopping medication quite some time ago, I've become pretty good at noticing when these things begin. My heart never seems to not be racing, and every thought that comes to my mind becomes a priority. I can get paranoid, I can get easily agitated, I can get spontaneous. Sometimes it takes a while for me to notice, and sometimes I've already caused some pretty good damage (shopping sprees I can't afford, picking fights with friends or family, drinking in excess, etc.) I closed the door to the spare room, threw the magazine away, and took a natural anti-anxiety pill I bought from GNC (containing lavender, chamomile, and valerian root.) I decided to type this out while I wait for the pill to kick in.

I also wanted to share with those around me who may have noticed some strange behavior, these are signs that I'm going into a manic episode. Some of them can last just a few days, some can last for weeks. I've learned a lot of methods to deal with this until I come down, and I am confident that now that I've become aware, any strange or erratic behavior you may have noticed, I will be able to control. Starting with now, with today. By throwing the magazine out, and closing the door. I'll take each moment as it comes, and do my best to counteract the intense feelings I'm having right now.

In the meantime, to my friends and family, I appreciate your patience. I know this can't be easy for anyone. And just today, I had to have a conversation with a fairly new but important friend about this thing that makes me 'me'. It never gets easier, or less frightening, to tell someone "Hey, I'm crazy." But, we can't always pick our strengths and weaknesses. We can only make the best of what we've got.