I had a rough day at work today. It seemed to me like people were extra relentless on the phones, like they could sense my weakness, my vulnerability. All the more reason to obliterate me (they must surely have thought). And so they did. And I was done with that at about 4 or so. I was nearly to the point of tears on the drive home, but then I remembered I was going back to my apartment to get the rocks and bring them out to the RV so Moo and I can prepare the next tumbler loads. We got to tear open bags and sift through a mighty collection. From our travels in California, and my mom’s adventures in Arizona and Utah. We went through two full boxes of rock, settling in on about one freezer bag’s worth of stones of varying sizes. It looks like it’s going to be a lot of colored quartz and jasper (red and yellow). I’m going to go down there Sunday morning and set them in motion yet again. It’s an amazing, transformative process. I can’t wait to see how these most recent ones will do. So there’s another thing I have to look forward to.
I sometimes come here and write about the progress in making as a person. Other times, to lament or express sorrow. I’m bipolar, and my whole life is a non-stop twisting insane roller coaster of emotions. It has no rhyme or reason, sometimes striking me down in my prime, or kicking me when I’m low. My bipolar disorder is mostly not helpful, and rarely stays level for long. I’ve learned that the more I can take these thoughts I have, and get them out of my head, the better things will be. I give my emotions recognition by publishing them here, a permanence they so desperately (and initially) sought from me. When you don’t have someone you can talk to everyday, you find ways to still express, and vibrantly. I find my written narrative to be far more coherent and reasonable than anything I manage to utter. Stark contrast, in my opinion. But I’ve relieved many compliments on my verbal skills from customers and from peers.
Sometimes you need to fall down, in order to see all the reasons to get back up. Maybe I’m just stumbling along too fast for my own feet and right on the edge of losing it. I walk a fine line, and it doesn’t take much to unseat what frail stability is maintained. I endeavor on, trying to hold on to all of the really good things I have going on in my life.