Make no mistake I don’t actually want to be perfect, believe it or not even though I’m not feeling incredibly happy, I am at least happy about who I am. There are of course flaws, imperfections, little quirks about myself I sometimes think I’d love to trade in, or shed for a day. I wouldn’t mind trying on the tiara, I wouldn’t mind it fitting. I don’t mean that I want to be a Miss America or a prom queen, not a literal tiara, but one that was more outgoing and happy all the time.
People who really know me know that even if I’m happy on the outside I’m, well, I wouldn’t say exactly that I’m faking it, but they know that I have 2 modes, manic and depressive. That means that oft times when I’m feeling incredibly low, I fight against drowning by trying to be extra cheery on the outside and if I’m feeling a sense of heightened chaotic excitement on the inside, usually I’m trying to tone it down. This gives the impression that I’m just about normal all the time, but that’s not true, though I wish it were.
I love the people who really know me, but I feel bad for them too, having someone like me in their midst sometimes. I feel bad that I’m such a mess that I feel like I’ve got to hide away from the world because I can’t process one more thing, I think it makes me a terrible friend. I used to be such a good friend too, so it’s sad and that’s why I try to reach out during my higher happy points because once the cave dwelling mode takes over, who knows how long it will be before I come out again.
Recently I shared some personal things with a couple of new online friends, just about the nature of what I was going through, how low I was feeling, how disconnected, and they said they would never have guessed. I sort of think that’s the best news I could have heard because if I hadn’t openly admitted it, they wouldn’t have ever known.
I feel like I’m supposed to be having a bigger reaction to life, that something spectacular should be coming, I’m not quite there yet.