Witt's End

 I’m obsessed with the idea of finding balance in my life. In feel some sense of equilibrium. Probably because so much of my daily life is spent in extremes and out of sync.  I didn’t realize it for so long. But now I can see the patterns with some semblance of definition things have gotten clearer. My brain constantly changes its seasons rapidly. More rapidly than most. And more extreme than many. Multiple times a year. And now I can see it. How that shifts what I would want for balance.  Writing is a part of it. And strive as I might to follow a traditional regimen or push myself with some type of discipline I’m afraid my productivity will ebb and flow. There’s a cycle to the writing. A depth and introspection that comes with the depression, but a lack of energy to see it through. A thousand starts and ideas. Then the mania is the energy that comes to finish them all, but not focused to do more than see something else through.  That’s not to say that I can’t see a project when depres

 “Our body will be perfect in Heaven.” Resurrection in perfection. A source of hope for a lot of people. For me. I don’t know.  Now if you’re of a tradition or belief that is purely spiritual or based in reincarnation then his may not resonate with you. But if you are of a faith in bodily resurrection and restoration go ahead and stick around. I hope this doesn’t infuriate you. It’s just something that’s been jumping up around me for some time. See the idea of a resurrection in perfection frightens me. Not because I fear resurrection, no because of what perfection means to others. And what that may strip from people.  I’ve been taught from a young age that when we die, we all get resurrected in time. And at that resurrection all of our aging, infirmities, weaknesses, injuries etc will be taken from us. The first time I broke a bone that sounded amazing. When I got chicken pox and acne scars I was elated. Ditto with the stretch marks from my growth spurts.  The idea that all of that pai

I’d heard people say they have had mixed episodes before. I looked it up in stuff like the DSM. But I never got it. Not til now. Such a disarming phrase. Mixed episode. Most mixed things are good and bad. Not this.  It’s a pure raw nerve. Absolute exposure to every element in your life with no bypass for the emotion.  Regulation. It’s gone. All you have is the awareness to control your cognition and hopefully your behavior. Mania used to scare me the most. But this is worse. The impulsivity of this he highs is matched concurrently with the apathy of the lows.  It’s the worst of it all. It’s compounding. Not canceling. I never could have prepared for this. I think that’s the trickiest part of being bipolar. You find equilibrium. You plan. You get everything set, and your brain will still challenge you. You’ll get off balance again. Hopefully it will be a dive to depression or a soar to mania that’s familiar. One you have a way to cope for. But it may be something else entirely. Unexpect

  It was general conference weekend. It’s a time of reflection from year to year. A chance to listen to messages that are meant to direct and edify. This year it’s been increasingly difficult to felt connection and resonance with the messages. I’m just in a different place than I used to be.  As I find purpose and peace the focus shifts. The helps I use in my life have too. What I hold on to most; it’s more selective.  There was a couple things that reached me.  One was wonderful counsel on our path to Heavenly Father and Christ. The relational and personal aspects of that. How unique it can be.  I’ve been feeling that. Seeing the varieties of paths people take. The variances of struggle, strife, and accomplishment.  I could but think of the quote I’ve been ruminating on since my days on the COVID floor. “We may all be in the same storm, but we’re not all in the same boat.” We can’t make the same journey. It’s impossible. All that matters most is our relationship with God. The next par