I dropped my son off for his first day of school on September 5th and then I landed right in the arms of one of my most favourite people in the world for consoling.
That woman is the Picasso of my mane and one hell of a part time therapist. She says all the right things while transforming my tresses into a mother loving masterpiece.
…that lasts like 3 days if I don’t wash it. Recreating the blowout is a struggle. How do they blow dry hair so damn perfectly?
I felt completely defeated that day and that woman said, “You look like you need eggplant in your life.”
And then *BAM*.
I am wearing a GD eggplant helmet and every time I walk past a mirror I’m like, “Who is this chick rocking that bad ass confident attitude?”
And it’s me.
Only, I don’t have much of a confident attitude. This is more of a chest pain face from anxiety and a whole lot of confusion as to why I walked into the bathroom in the first place. Although, once I found my coffee mug sitting on top of the toilet and I considered that aimless wandering a win. And yes, I did drink it. I don’t waste coffee.
I saw my psychiatrist for the first time in over a month and in a giant outburst I told him that I feel like that character in a movie who keeps saying “Everything is fine. This is fine.” even though everything is clearly not fine.
I kid you not, our lives lately have been a series of very unfortunate events and I know that I shouldn’t complain since there are people in this world who are going through so much right now…but son of a f*#$ing s*&t. It’s been one thing after another – little nuisances to HUGE health concerns. When you have a mental illness like bipolar disorder and you’re facing these serious negative life events/stressors, I can tell you first hand, the wires in your brain start to misbehave and your moods take a dive or climb on the proverbial “roller coaster”.
I don’t want to get on that ride. So I’m trying to fool my brain by telling myself (and everyone else) that “Everything is fine. It’s going to be fine.”
I take a deep breath in, close my eyes, shoulders back, exhale, open eyes…
“I am going to be so positive today that if I were to stand in a Michael’s store, you could purchase me as an inspirational poster.”
10 minutes later…
Inside I feel like I am a catastrophic event waiting to happen. I’m neither depressed nor manic. I just have so much anxiety that my heart actually hurts. I’m convinced that it’s going to rip open at the seams and an angry troll is going to pop out.
I had an EKG done on Monday.
Mental illness is hard when life is hard and life is hard when mental illness is hard.
Sometimes I wish that people could see that underneath that there’s a struggle going on and that they’d cut me some friggen slack. Do you ever wish that? That people could see what you’re really going through. Rather, I just wish that people would remember to be kind.
Perhaps they’d recognize that I am an exhausted mother, angry mother, worried mother, lonely mother, in need of a hot cup of coffee mother.
They’d recognize that I’m busy advocating…
I have appointments to go to every week.
A house that always ends up looking like disaster even though I swear I’ve cleaned it.
I could go on…
But the reality is, no one knows what it’s like to be me – bipolar, anxiety, with my brain wired completely out of order and then fantastically covered up by eggplant hair – unless I scream:
“Our foundation is leaking all over the basement, my child has mysterious hives, a busted tailbone, and I’m about to rip a strip off his new principal’s face because I’m that bonkers.”
“Everything is fine. It’s fine.”
I know that I need to start establishing my boundaries again which means –
“I got shin splints walking my son to school on the first day, so NO Jenn I will not be walking door to door trying to sell vegetables for the school fundraiser.”
And with boundaries comes room to breathe – cleaner, positive air and it’s about time that I start taking better care of myself.
You see, I think I lost myself somewhere in June. I put everyone and everything before me.
September 5th my hairdresser breathed life into my dried out ends and gave me an “air” of confidence and bad ass attitude. She said it was my “mama bear hair”.
No, it’s my hair.
And I’ll find her again.