quickly

i told dan the other day that sometimes he had to allow me time to catch up to where he was at mentally. sometimes you talk on the phone and arrive home and he's cycled completely in a different direction. it's kind of frustrating, kind of exhilirating, kind of human. today i came downstairs and felt the same way, and dan actually said that sometimes he needs to catch up with the rest of the world too, not always vice versa.

we talked a bit this morning about how therapy is going to change him, how meds might change him, how his approach to dealing with things is going to be what changes most. i finally thought about how my life before dan patterned me for a life with dan--dad was pretty mercurial before he got on blood pressure meds and had heart surgery, and his anger often shaped the way dinner went, etc. i think that the up and down aspect of life with my father created in me the acceptance to deal with people who were just as bipolar as dan is. i think about the rocks i carry in my pockets and how they were formed over millions of years to be just this shape, just this color, just this size, and how over the span of 30 years a human soul can take on much the same form.

i think a lot now about the way that our relationship works--the words we choose, the way we work together and the way we don't, the interactions, the conversations, the delicate dance. part of me wants to rewind and go back and pretend that nothing happened; that's the part of me that is procrastinating calling the therapist, finding out if aetna covers therapy, finding out about anything that might be deemed "progress." the other part of me, the other half, is overjoyed. more than half, really--dan has unearthed a lot of hidden things that needed to see the light of day. but the most precious thing that has been unearthed has been the friendship that we have always had, and the willingness to discuss things.

time has fermented this relationship; we're comfortable with each other enough to actually talk and be honest. for a long, long time we were comfortable with each other, but i am not sure we were entirely honest.

there's sweet and sour with everything in life; sometimes more sour, sometimes more sweet. the sour part of the past 3 weeks has been feeling betrayed by someone's brain chemistry; the sweet has been the comprehension and the understanding that there is a reason. the sour has been realizing that you've been living in some kind of dream world, and that you have to leave it; the sweet has been realizing that the dream world wasn't always a dream, that sometimes it was a nightmare and there is a reason for that nightmare (kind of like eating mexican and then wondering why your belly has turned to fire...) the sour of the past few weeks has been the ups and downs; the sweet is realizing that there is hope.

it's all balanced out by the education. i've done more reading about depression, mania and being bipolar and living with someone who is bipolar, in the last week, than i have in my whole life. right now dan and i are reading simultaneously "a brilliant madness," by patty duke and gloria hochman. thus far we are both giving it 5 stars--one chapter written by patty about how bipolar disorder affected her life, the next by gloria about the medical steps that can be taken and a much more clinical look at things. nothing is written, however, over or under your comprehension level, which is much appreciated because both of us read a ton. definitely recommended.

the education, the knowing--that has been sweet. i can look back and see so many events that came to fruition and caused unknowable pain in our combined past, and pin it on two things--dan's bipolar swings, and my depression. together it's like two addicts, trying to find solace in each other, never stopping the cycle.

the last three weeks have been like shedding clothing i didn't know i had on. i could come up with more metaphors but it's redundant. enough can be said by just saying this: i'm glad, with my soul, that dan finally broke this cycle. i'm glad that by doing so he has turned over a rock and found something immesurably wonderful: himself. i'm glad that by doing so, he's allowed me to search and find myself, and that together in the looking, we've found an honest friendship that i didn't know i was missing as much as i did.

i said this would be quick and so far it has been. i've only been typing a little bit now. i need to go do some laundry and maybe revel a bit in the blue, blue sky.

i've been reading the tao te ching by lao-tzu at night, and it's been comforting in its zen. have to share a spot here. it's all about balance. (: this translation is by stephen mitchell.

36
If you want to shrink something,
you must first allow it to expand.
If you want to get rid of something,
you must first allow it to flourish.
If you want to take something,
you must first allow it to be given.
This is called the subtle perception
of the way things are.

The soft overcomes the hard.
The slow overcomes the fast.
Let your workings remain a mystery.
Just show people the results.