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Failed at Love Again or Just Another Manic Episode (I’m Bipolar, You Know)
One Sunday, depressed by yet another love affair gone south, I came across a quote from Wolfgang Goethe: “If I love you, what business do you have?” I was struck by lightning when I realized that being in love has nothing to do with the other person. It’s like telling her “I love you, but it has nothing to do with you”. I had fallen in love with all these women over the years; All these infatuations, lusts and compulsions were about me and me alone! But what about everything I learned? I believed in those relationships that people say couples come together to solve problems from their childhood. My spirituality took a big hit because I also believed that falling in love was really two souls coming together for their eternal healing and getting closer to God. What about the evolution angle? If some of us don’t have the attitude to unite, we’ll surely be extinct, right? Yet those dang words of Goethe are clear to me. If falling in love has nothing to do with her, then there must be something wrong with me.
When I fall in love, I lose the boundaries of my ego. I only think of being with her.
i don’t eat I am not interested in important things like my job, my bills and my friends. I’m going a million miles a minute like some hyperactive child… well, like crazy. So I looked it up. Mania manifests as hyperactivity, grandiose behavior, unrealistic assumptions, and sometimes high-risk behavior. So that’s it, I’m manic! No wait! I also have a sad, stressful type of depression going on. If it wasn’t for her voice on the phone, I wouldn’t speak. I would die a thousand deaths waiting for my email to be answered. Did she read it? Is she ignoring me? Is she reading another man’s email? where is my cell phone Is there a charge? I will call myself to make sure it works! I always doubted myself. I promised and I prayed. Argh! I couldn’t get out of bed but I could jump to the window when I heard her car door open. Of course, all the sounds were the same as her car door slamming. Isn’t it disappointing? I watched that too and now I’m frantic and depressed (and frankly confused).
So what triggers these love affairs? Why is she and why is she not (move head left to right). Why now and why not then? The distinct and brutal clarity I derive from Mr. Goethe’s simple question is that falling in love is the beginning of a completely self-involved mood swing that manifests itself in behaviors described as mania, followed (and often preceded) by depression. I looked up too. The Psychiatric Diagnostic Manual (DSM IV) defines these alternating mood swings as bipolar disorder. So that’s it! I have a mood disorder!
Now, I was ready for a relationship when this last one came up, so I can rationalize why I ignored the red flags. There was an old boyfriend who she liked but who didn’t like her thing, the “let’s go slow” thing, the “let’s be friends” thing, the “my animal totem is a turtle” thing. flags? Which flags? I didn’t care! Sure, I can be a friend. Yes, slow is good—sure, sure, I can do slow. Heck, I would have done anything: I just wanted a girlfriend. I could see that she was also falling for me. Well, she tried anyway. It was here – go, wonderful hug-kissing coffee by the river one day but the next day I feel like an autism therapist… here turtle, turtle. I was confused. I consulted my friends, my doctor, and the 7-11 employee about barbells in her tongue. In retrospect I only heeded the advice as needed during my manic episodes. I ignored the fact that she cut me off from the rest of her life except to meet another friend at the nine-hole or an after-work gathering after a previous job. I ignored my friends’ advice about always being available. I “go out and win!” heard Instead of “What’s in it for me?”
Until Wolfgang shared those words with me, I was sheltered by what relationship books said about being in love; Two people come together out of a deep-seated need to resolve their childhood issues. Well, that seems pretty selfish now, doesn’t it? Yet, for the rest of my life, I couldn’t stop looking for excuses, excuses, and justifications for the emotional battles I fought. I refuse to discount all the time I spent in therapy trying to get rid of my raging inner child. Plus, me and my little inner man finally came to an agreement.
I won’t give up my hard-won spirituality either, even though it’s a nagging thought that where I believe I’m in love with this woman—all these women—because our souls are trying to heal, the mood disorder stuff now tells me I’m low on dopamine. Suffering from a combination of levels that interfere with my neurological synapse activity which restricts blood flow through my limbic system causing anything of the sort. Well, disorder or not, my God and my soul remain steadfast. Through the years and hardships I have found comfort in entrusting my soul with a good share of responsibility. He’s a big shot and he obviously doesn’t tell me everything, so for reasons of self-preservation I think I’ll keep him.
My behavior in this last chapter was particularly troubling. She didn’t let herself fall in love with me and I didn’t handle it so well. It showed. Why is emotional dissatisfaction so powerfully disruptive? Every day I lost faith in something else; Mailman, my golf swing, the sun rises. I started walking around because my name was spelled wrong in the junk mail letter for twelve free CDs! I’ve had days, even weeks, blundering around like the universe is trying to make a point. One day in particular I was having a really bad time. I was breaking drill bits, banging my knee, selling a stock to see it jump 30% two days later, I wasn’t worth much, and then I was alone on Valentine’s Day.
It was the strongest relationship I’ve ever been in. And I take that as additional proof that what I learned was really for me and had little to do with her. She was the catalyst for my journey, acting as a mirror or sounding board. Throughout this episode, I picked up one spiritual book after another; Celestine Vision; the seat of the soul; four covenants; God on Harley. I found comfort in the rocks – spiritual vibrations to soothe my soul. I had my palms read, my chart done and my numbers charted. I would sit and listen to that drumming CD when my vision took me swimming with a giant gecko lizard (my chosen animal totem at the time). Jeez! Is this love as the Lutherans taught me?
Like most people in a mess, I knew I would get out of it. A friend once said she could handle a relationship breakup. Rejection was easier to handle than intimacy because she had more experience with failure. Well, that’s not a good thing to say about how we live and learn in the 21st century (although she did say that in the late 20th century).
Having a mood disorder is a heavy label to hang on someone (although they are becoming more popular as pharmaceutical companies increase their advertising). It’s not as popular as codependency, but it’s getting there, and rightly so. Just as we believe that the earth is the center of our universe, only to finally agree with Copernicus that we are not, and just as we believe that alcoholism is a moral dilemma caused by a lack of willpower and moral depravity, only to find one. As a genetic factor, we find the means (and medication) to accept a little more of ourselves and face another day in denial, in the comfort of a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Of course, a new relationship could be easier if I was on Depakote and she was on Lithobid, we could be pharmacologically compatible. Only our therapists will know for sure. I read that fish oil helps with this condition. Omega 3. It helps frontal lobe blood flow, it’s good for the skin and I only have to eat 24 goldfish a day because according to the book they are more powerful when alive. I received this book from a young bald man in a suit at the airport.
Why is it just a “disorder”? Isn’t bipolar just another version of the person? A variety of personality traits are needed to support our vastly diverse and complex culture. Teachers have to work harder and parents get upset and people like me end up in sales or carnivals, why is this a perversion? I know unlabeled people who throw cigarette butts out of their cars, don’t flush toilets, put catalog cards in the library and stick Kleenex up their noses (I’ve got a cold, sorry) and even give me the finger because they don’t like my lane-changing behavior. Is that normal?
Perhaps having a mood disorder is a product of evolution; Distribution and differentiation of species. It’s perfectly natural for a segment of the population to have a seven-second attention span, alternate periods of mania (what mood was Newton in when he created mechanical physics while watching an apple fall?), and depression that hits us even on a busy holiday. Weekends: We give ourselves a break and clear the highways for all that traffic. Heck, we might save lives! We people make great traveling salesmen, art forms, musicians, comedians, politicians, writers and therapists. We also make alcoholics and drug addicts and are strong supporters of the tobacco and gambling industries, but that’s another story. It gives me some comfort to know that many great people were bipolar, including Sir Isaac Newton (reinterpreting the role of the apple), Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Leo Tolstoy and Ernest Hemingway.
I’m recovering from this last brush with the turtle intact. One must guess, guess, guess the recovery time, time, time. i’m fine I didn’t just hold anyone’s hand. I didn’t get into casino gambling or a pit of chocolate covered almonds (well, maybe a pound or two). I continue to meet women because of that canyahookmeup website, yet these excellent women do not approach the enthusiastic prospects I demand for episodes. Maybe it’s okay to go slow and be friends first. I’m not entirely sure I’ll get what I want this way: a part of me wants this excitement.
Am I good for experiences? yes A long time ago I adopted the principle that the only hope I have for anything I go through is to be a better person for it. Although I’ve been harping on about love and moods and Goethe quotes, this new reality suggests that I’ve stopped looking for “the one” and don’t rely on constant excitement and enthusiasm. The next time I meet a woman who knocks my socks off, I’ll remind myself that as beautiful and bright and supportive as she is, my attraction may be less about her and more about my disorders. An internal chemistry, an instinctive need, a spiritual longing and some external trigger, perhaps a blue moon, a tidal wave or some butterfly make a breeze in some distant field. I have to take it from there.
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