Up and Down

"Fall seven times and stand up eight." Japanese proverb

Good Morning. It's morning where I am anyway, as I write this. I had my coffee, strong and hot and delicious. My godchildren, an Australian shepherd and yellow Labrador who belong to my dear roommate/friend, gave me a beautiful mug for Mother's Day. It is blue, has flowers and butterflies and ladybugs on it, and it definitely makes the coffee taste even better. I had some cinnamon toast, so I'm all fueled up and ready to go take on another day. I brushed my teeth, so my breath is minty-fresh.

Yesterday in the late afternoon, I felt a little blue and discouraged, nothing bad, just the down in the everyday up-and-down of life. I didn't analyze how I felt (well, maybe just a little) and I didn't try to fix it (I did have some chocolate, but not too much) and I didn't give myself a pep talk (I started to, but I interrupted myself after a few words.) This is really good for me, to just feel an emotion, to allow it to come in one door and walk out the other. I find that it's okay to be down, because I know that I can always get back up again. I am thankful that my happiness is pretty much a consistent straight line, that the ups are not up really high, and the lows are not down really low. I have dodged a major bullet in life. There is a family history of bipolar disorder (manic depression) but I don't have it. I feel blessed, because I know it is a tough disease to deal with successfully. I am one lucky girl.

Today is a good day for me. I hope it is a good day for you, too. Thank you for reading what I write.

Susan

"Tubthumping" written by Duncan Bruce, Nigel Hunter, Alice Nutter, Louise Watts

Artistic Temperament

Hans Christian Andersen, Charles Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Henrick Ibsen, Sylvia Plath, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Hunter Thompson, Mark Twain, Virginia Woolf.

This is only a short, partial list of writers who struggled with psychiatric disorders such as depression and bipolar disorder. There are many artists, writers and composers who suffered from mental illness. Some committed suicide. In her book Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament, Kay Redfield Jamison tackles the subject at length.

I have loved to read for as long as I can remember. I don't read as much for pleasure as I used to, but still this year I have read Walter Isaacson's excellent book Steve Jobs, E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey,  The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and I'm halfway through Fair Maiden by Joyce Carol Oates. I also have been reading some poetry online by the brilliant Anaïs Nin.

It makes me sad that those who gave me so much were themselves so troubled. That those who gave me so many hours of happy reading were not happy themselves. That those who enriched my life, in some cases made the choice to end theirs.

Today we understand diseases of the mind much better, and there are interventions and medication available now that were not back in the day when some of these brilliant artists lived. The ability to create and express oneself is a priceless gift. It should never come at such a high cost.

Susan

"What the Water Gave Me" written by Florence Welch and Francis White

Lesson Learned

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Buddha

Friends come into our lives. Some stay and others go. Perhaps it's your college roommate. You become close, then after graduation you go on to jobs in separate cities and sort of lose touch. Maybe it's that other mom you serve on the PTA with. Then your kids move on and so do you. My oldest, best friend and I have been at it for thirty-five years now. For the majority of our friendship, we have lived across the country from each other. There have been literally years we haven't seen each other, but we always seem to just pick up where we left off. She is one of the most loyal people I know. If I was in trouble, all I would have to do is tell her and she'd be on the next plane to California. I would do the same for her.

A friend recently taught me one of the most important lessons of my life. My childhood was dysfunctional, and both my parents were messed up people. Like many kids who grow up that way, I developed a pattern of playing those relationships out over and over in life. It's what Freud called "repetition compulsion," a subconscious way of trying to right those wrongs. I am at heart a compassionate person and I enjoy helping other people, but I took it to new heights as I found damaged people and tried to rescue them. My rational mind knew it was hopeless. Of course, those people would have to fix and change themselves. I couldn't do it. But still I tried. I failed and in the process hurt myself, but I tried. Then I got sick of doing it and decided no more. I was going to stop rescuing people. Well, this student must have been ready, because within a few months, the teacher appeared.

My new friend and I hit it off immediately. We laughed and talked and laughed some more. With a couple of other "girls," we had a great trip to Las Vegas. I love her and she loves me. For a long time I didn't connect the dots, but as she told me more and more about herself, I began to guess that it's likely she was hurt very badly as a child. She has bipolar disorder, and when we first met she was taking medication that successfully treated it. Then she made the decision to go off her meds and stay off them. Her health went from okay to bad to worse, and when she hit rock bottom, a third friend got in touch with her family. She is with them now, and it would be wonderful if she would take this opportunity to help herself get better.

One day when she was somewhere between worse and rock bottom, I looked at her and had the most amazing realization. I had no desire to fix her. None at all. My lifelong craving was gone. How did it happen? I really don't know. I imagine it was a progression that as time goes on, I'll begin to see clearly. I don't think it even matters. I had learned to love someone without wanting to fix her. Lesson learned.

I don't know what I was to my friend. I tried as much as possible to make it be positive. But I definitely know what she was to me. I was the student and she my teacher.

Susan