February 7, 2009

Seawalls

One of the references that Kay Redfield Jamison makes in her book is the idea of a seawall in your mind. I quote her

"...They are to keep at bay the sadnesses of our lives and the often overwhelming forces within our minds. In whatever way we do this - thorough love, faith, family, work, alcohol, drugs (illegal, and legal), denial, friends - we build these, stone by stone, over a lifetime. One of the most difficult problems is to construct these barriers of such a height and strength that one has a true harbour, a sanctuary away from crippling turmoil and pain, but yet low enough, and permeable enough to let in fresh seawater...."


Yes, I need to build the wall. To hold back, at bay, the minds turmoil, despair, and sadnesses for things past. To wall away that which has past.

As I spoke to my mum this morning, and tried to explain how much this book meant to me while reading it, I could see she just didn't get it. And then I had this thought. What if, for a day, we could switch completely. Me live in her body with her brain, her actions, and reactions, and just see how "normal" life feels. To feel what a "normal" person feels every day. To see what I am like, from her perspective. A daughter whom she loves deeply but who just won't listen to her, completely. Who just won't be exactly whom her mother wants her to be. I'd love, as well, for my mum to experience life the way I do. The chaotic thoughts every day. The mind that still thinks fast. Yes, now well rested, but still fuzzy, uncoordinated, still darting from thought to thought. What would she think after that day? How crazy I live? How crazy is her daughter? How disorienting it must seem.

Then I think of this. I'd love to see me through the eyes of my friend in Australia. Just to see what he sees, in me. And to think what he thinks, of me, for just a short while. That would be an interesting exercise, actually.

I envy people with ordered logical minds, honestly. Not greatly, but somewhat. I wish, at times, to be a completely logical, organized person. Not a wild, fly-it-on-the wing person; who also thinks Linkin Park on loud is great for putting away groceries. But, rather a Mozart lover who would calmly organize the kitchen nicely. Not overly, but just nicely. I wish I could be that person who'd have a really clean, organized house. Everything in its place, and a place for everything, ship shape, Bristol fashion. But, no, I believe I'm condemned to a life of chaos, and trying to maintain some sanity among that chaos.

I hope somebody other than Indian spammers with their goddamn drug ads actually reads this idiot stuff I pour out. Anybody out there?

2 comments:

Emily A. said...

Someone reads it. Me. And I don't sell Viagra! ;)

I really admire your willingness to put your Bi-polar out there for others to read. I suffer from it too, but pretty silently. A lot of my family thinks mental illness is a weakness and something we can control with willpower. :::rolling eyes:::

Toria/Deb said...

Thanks for the comment! woo hoo, somebody does read it and hopefully enjoys my ramblings. Well, I'm sorry to hear about your family, but yes, sadly that is the case with so many who just don't get that its a "disease" not a willpower thing. Good luck in dealing with it! Yeah, I've always been an open person. I'm happy to share my story, in the hopes that others will learn something, or feel validated, or whatever. Just be a help, basically, is what I want to do.