My Bipolar Journal - Episode 86

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 86

July 28, 2007

Many things going through my mind. Mostly revolving around the term "satisfaction". I can't even begin to truly explain how content I truly am right now and I feel so lucky because even if it is a bipolar fixation, I will thank my lucky stars for it because most people in this short time we're all given here, will never experience the amount of contentment and satisfaction I feel in this very moment (note time those of you who may peruse, but never actually subscribe to my blog). Okay, that was sad. Basically, if you were, oh, let's say, all of one person you'll get that.

I don't care though. I don't care about who reads into my little innuendos and who does not. I try to make sure that I am subscribed to every one of my friends blogged. I was told this might be "stalkish". I was more thinking I might be becoming too nosey. I described this (or maybe excused it) as a fascination with the way people interpret their lives. I personally have no secrets, nothing to hide, nothing to not share about myself or the ongoings of what goes on with me. I was told I give too much information last night, but really what is that? Me excusing people's comfortability level? Maybe some things don't need to be said, but does that make it wrong for us to say them? Or does it just point out other people's inability to accept certain parts or you or maybe themselves? Me? You can say anything. I don't care if it's about your dog or your mom or how you feel about me or other people. It may not make me personally interested in your life, but anything you feel the desire to say that you feel is important is ok by me. I don't mind if it's about the latest girl/guy that dumped you or your latest dump (yes, literally, not figuratively).

Really, what right do we have to shut in any part of our lives and not share it with others? Because we're afraid of what they might think? Because we're afraid of who we are or who we can admit to being? Dude, so you sucked a dude's cock. I'm not saying that you should go skipping through the streets making a song out of it with a big sandwich board attached, but what's wrong with the pure enjoyment that you may have gotten out of it? What's wrong with saying it?

The art of contentment can truly be defined in being completely satisfied with your life and the choices that you've made regardless of other people being comfortable or uncomfortable with them. I like My Chemical Romance. I like all of their albums, even Black Parade. Does that mean I've sold out? Maybe so. Do I know that I truly respect them as musicians and that I truly get enjoyment out of the epics they've created through their music, regardless of the changes in their musical style, corporately related or otherwise? I absolutely do. I absolutely get a surge of a emotion at their music that is all mine that no one else told me to have or not to have. I watch American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. No, I don't have cable and literally hundreds of options, but can I deny the satisfaction I get at watching them or actually, the lessons I've learned from them?

I love the fact that everything in my life has meaning. I love that I found love. True love. The love that will last me a lifetime whether I ever truly have it again or not. I revel in the fact that I have these moments and that even when it hurts that it's gone that it's the most satisfied, unexplainable, all-knowing, whole hurt that I've had. Most people will never get to experience what I have experienced because most people are truly conditioned to believe the false advertisement of a happy ending.

I hate to break it to everyone, but finding the perfect love, the perfect job, the perfect life, is not what you ever think it will be. The perfect life is full of hurt and disappointment and truly accepting that your life can be that. You have to know that at the end of every disappointment there is a happier, more satisfied feeling around the corner. This world is conditioned to be disappointed. That marriage and relationships and friendships and money and so much more is never enough or hard work. I am living proof that it doesn't have to be. I don't make a million dollars, I don't live in a big house in the perfect location or have 2.5 kids and a dog, but I love my life. The only things that could make it better is having the love of my life and an Airstream trailor. I love the idea of saying, "It's too hot today, I think I'll move." Does it make me a hippie or a hopeless romantic? No. I don't like smoking weed, I don't like Phish or Dave Matthews, I don't want to camp out every day of my life, but I do love my freedom. I'm the only one that can take that away from myself. It doesn't make me any of those labels. All it makes me is truly and completely and obsessively myself and wholly and completely content. Do I need to be happy when I'm content? I really don't think that's the lesson.

P.S. For those of you who have helped me come to this in my life (and anyone who is my friend here is), a thousand times thanks. You are truly what makes my life worth living and I'll never take it for granted.