The Only Bubbly Thing around Here Goes by the Name of Dom Perignon
Over the past two days I have had several people tell me they miss the “bubbly old Lydia” and can’t wait until I feel better. What they are very unaware of is the fact that this was a façade I felt I needed to present to the world in order to have people like me, and also how I managed to cope with my entire life. Fake it until you make it was my motto, I suppose. I had done it for so long, it came easily to me until October’s events completely overtook me, like a gigantic unexpected wave, and the raft upon which I usually could float was forced out from beneath me and my body was sucked out into a sea of depression and angst. I don’t even know where that person is anymore. I don’t know how to be bubbly. I occasionally try to muster up a joke or a giggle, but they are few and far between.
And I don’t want to fake it anymore. I’m tired of faking. I’m tired of attempting to cope to the point that I am completely exhausted from the efforts I have expended on “happiness” over the past twenty years. Have I been happy at times? Of course, but I have also experienced extreme loss and pushed down years of anger. Anger has in some ways carried me through up until this point, but I am also tired of my anger, as it leaves me exhausted as well. I unfortunately believe that my mania comes out as anger and rage, and I hate it. I can just feel it overtake me, just as the wave overtook my raft. Sometimes its power is a force that cannot be controlled. Sometimes it is a “high” to me, especially when I can rant about things that make me mad, or politicians or criticize people on television, but other times, it’s uncontrollable and I am left just as exhausted and depressed as I would feel if I had been running on euphoric gasoline.
It leaves me thinking, people only really know the person we want them to know, and especially now with all the multimedia and internet. I am a nurse and the last thing my patients would want is a miserable, mean spirited person taking care of them, so I always put on a good front. That’s why today, I am unsure if I can ever return to nursing. At one time, I loved taking care of my elderly patients who many times became like extended family to me. Now, I don’t think I could do it. I don’t have the energy. I lack the compassion right now, and there are days I can barely take care of myself.
Which brings me back to the point of this post: What is a person supposed to say to someone when they tell you they miss the “bubbly” old you? Part of me wants to say, you certainly can’t imagine how much I miss her, because this me plain sucks. Part of me wants to say, I’m sorry I can’t fulfill your needs with my false positivity, while you suck the life out of my very being. But then, there’s a very miniscule, rational part that is left which realizes that I was very likeable that way. Who wouldn’t want that person back? The problem lies within the fact that she was an illusion. I not only eluded all of the people that thought that was the real me, but I also eluded myself and believed I was surviving. Do I desire to feel happy, carefree and bubbly again? At times, but then I am left with doubt and anger, that while I ran around behaving and acting that way, my anger and depression just built up its strength with each and every year it was ignored. My bipolar, although I pretended it was not, was actually running my life, my moods and although I believed I was in control of it, I wasn’t. I’ve surrendered to it all, and resigned myself to the belief that the girl everyone misses may have been forever changed by this last incident. Will I come out on the other side even better? One can hope, I suppose, and some days I do, and some days I don’t.
With the coming of the New Year, I am not in the position to make resolutions such as quitting drinking or giving up cigarettes or losing weight. My New Year’s resolution is to find forgiveness within myself for the many awful things I have done in my past, some completely out of my control now that I am aware of the chemical imbalance, but none the less, worthy of self-persecution. My goal is to heal myself and my mind, and find out what truly makes me happy, as I am not sure it is taking care of people, aside from my family anymore. I leave you all with one thought that I truly am beginning to believe, everything happens at the time at which it is supposed to happen, and as such, I believe all of these revelations, all of these feelings and emotions which have rekindled my creativity and love of writing, all of my depression and angst and anger are going to bring me to a new level, a new place in this crazy life of mine, and I am ready to embrace it, because anything has to be better than the way I was living. This year I make a toast to being real, and for those of you that want “bubbly” I suggest buying yourself a bottle of champagne. I wish each and every one of you a year of growth, peace and insight. Here is to a better 2015! Xoxoxo (ok, that may have been a tad bubbly!)