So, this is me. The picture was taken with the camera looking down on me. I am wearing lots of make-up, and my grey hair is showing. Due to the make-up, my skin looks smooth, which it is not, and due to the angle, my double-chin is hidden. And that is the truth. From a different angle, the picture would look different.
Everything looks different from a different angle.
I am standing in front of my shelves that are filled to the brim with books and CDs. I love those shelves. They are not worth much, yet they are. Emotional value. Some of the CDs are signed, and some are rarities. All of them are mine. The thought that they will be thrown away when I am not there anymore is sobering. Then again, my kids know that I am not attached to many things and that the music matters to me.
A couple of weeks ago, I became more active on Instagram. Every day, I am posting two pictures: one with a piece of writing and one with music. Not much changed in terms of followers or interactions and when the mood strikes, I want to delete everything.
Sometimes, I want to delete myself too. I am not sure if anyone would really miss me – apart from my kids. I feel expendable, useless. I feel as if the way I am is overwhelming people and pushing them away, when in reality, I want to keep them close and shower them with my love.
As someone who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, not that long ago, I am still struggling with my moods a lot. For a long while, I was depressed, but now manic episodes get into the mix too. And they are more pronounced these days in that I am more vocal and sharing more about myself; I also spend more money, I am more adventurous too. At the same time, the euphoria is followed by immense crashes and anxiety. The anxiety is worse than it ever was. That’s not easy to navigate while staying a functioning adult. I should not have gotten a diagnosis. In the end, if you have been reading this blog for a longer while, you know how my moods shift from melancholia to euphoria. It is part of me. But now I keep thinking about the fact that it is an illness in my head. Sometimes, not knowing is bliss. I keep overthinking everything. Worse than before.
In other news, my shoulder does me in. Is anyone interested in a couple of tendons from the right shoulder and biceps? They are damaged and hurt like fuck, but apart from that, they were only in use for about 37 years. I will see my surgeon again next Wednesday to see how to go on. It is a year now that I am struggling with this injury and the moments when there is no pain in my arm and shoulder were rare. It adds in a negative way to my bad days.
But in the end, people are fighting for their lives every day… They are in pain and fighting and not giving up. My whining is petty. And yet…
I would like to be more normal. Less needy than I am. I would like to be able to think less and to just exist. But I can’t. This is me. A wise man said to me that we only have one life and we should live it to the fullest every day. How? How does one do it? All my life I had too many responsibilities and too many thoughts in my head to be free.
Sometimes, I feel like a bird in a cage. The cage is open, and I could fly, but something keeps me inside. And if I do decide to fly, I get hurt and return to the safety of my cage…
Will I ever truly step out of my comfort zone?
Life will change for me in November; I am quite sure. There are projects on the horizon. I invite you to be and stay part of my journey, if you dare and care to be.
Visit my Instagram and see what I have been up to: instagram.com/micqu_1/
Thank you. xx