My Bipolar Day

Sometimes my mind wages a battle against my heart, trying to convince me it doesn’t, or shouldn’t, feel something. My logic seeks to solve all my problems, believing that balance and happiness lie in rationality. This causes a lot of anxiety within me, and at times, I struggle to get it under control. I must face the truth that I am heartbroken, and I need to allow myself to feel that. Not to act on it, not to try and reclaim what’s lost (even if that were possible), but simply to sit with the emotion.

Yesterday, I tried to convince myself that what I felt wasn’t real, that it was just my need for connection. But today, I have realized that I truly loved him, more than I have ever loved anyone. And the pain that has come with cutting him completely out is intense. I believe we love others to the depth at which we love ourselves, and my love for myself is immense. This experience is reminding me to be careful with whom I share my heart and my life because when I love, it soars through the heavens and expands bigger than the Universe.

Grief is a strange beast that ebbs and flows like the tides of the ocean. I recently saw an incredible representation of how grief cycles through and out of our lives: a glass of red wine placed under a running faucet. The clear water slowly mixed with the deep red, diluting it. It took longer than I imagined for all the wine to disappear. That is how grief works. It is gradual, unpredictable, and even after the water runs clear a stain remains on the glass. A lingering lesson, a reminder of the pain that comes when I fall in love. Even if I do find the right person someday, I will still lose them to death. That pain will be even worse than this. If I am being honest, that thought scares me. But maybe it should scare everyone. Maybe then we would treat love with more respect. Treat each other with more respect.

I am not sure I want to go through heartache like this again. But maybe it is still too fresh, and I just need to stay present. By staying present and taking care of myself, I am finding it easier to navigate everything. I took two walks at work today. I also started a new chapter in my Sera novel. I thought it was finished, but there was more that needed to be written. The words flowed effortlessly, perhaps because I am no longer denying my emotions, even if they make me feel bipolar. Even if they make me look crazy to the outside world. She’s happy, she’s mad, she’s sad, she’s happy, she’s complaining, etc. Maybe the world needs to see that. Needs to see what actions do to people.

We try so hard to keep everyone comfortable, to avoid making a scene. But I think it needs to be seen. Otherwise, how do we change? How do we become better? I know that when I see I have hurt someone; it makes me reflect on my own toxic behaviors. I think everyone needs to reflect.

Anyway, these are just some fleeting thoughts from my chaotic day where I traveled through stress, anxiety, sadness, anger, and happiness, all while dreaming of what I want next in this life. So, I guess what I am really saying is that I am proud of myself. Proud of finally taking care of myself in the ways that I need.

A Sorrowed Frenzy

Last night was not a good night for me. My son needed to be rescued from some difficult circumstances, and my attachment got the best of me. I found myself reaching out, grasping at whatever connection I could get ahold of, grasping for answers, grasping for validation. All I ended up doing was prolonging my suffering.

I have a hard time with loss. Losing love, or more so, losing connection. This morning, I realized how my attachment was causing me to put pressure on the people I love. My kids, my partners, my friends. I saw how much I was wanting from another person instead of simply enjoying their presence.

Last night, my ego took control for a few hours, and I was not the best version of myself. I lost control and found myself wondering what was wrong with me, questioning why people eventually pull away. At first, I am fun and detached, but as time goes on, I start to rely on what others offer me. When that love fades, when that connection disappears, I spiral into a reckless frenzy of sorrow.

This morning, I realized I’ve just been trying to escape my pain, trying to ignore the fact that I am searching for something outside of myself. I do well on my own. I feel I have mastered solitude. I know how to entertain myself, how to take care of myself, how to love myself. But when I enter a relationship, I become needy.

I know I need connection. I know I need love. But I must be willing to let people love and connect with me in their own ways, not just in the ways I expect or demand them to. I don’t know what this world holds for me in terms of connection, but I do know that I will continue to know and love myself. I will continue to reflect and heal. One experience at a time.

Evening Revelations: Anxious Attachment

I’ve had a day of wonderful moments and difficulties, fueled by anxiety and my anxious attachment style and my conscious brain trying to make sense of my world right now. I’m realizing just how much I needed this heartbreak. When I initially declared, “Two years single!” I said it with anger—anger at all the men who had crossed my path and anger at myself for allowing them to get close enough to touch me. I didn’t go into it with a true purpose. Be single and alone was all that was in my mind.

The truth I am facing is that I needed someone to show me true love and care, only to walk away. I needed it so I could finally face the part of me that still needed healing. My anxious attachment.

As I spiraled today, songs and articles kept showing up in my feed, all centered on anxious attachment during a breakup. I checked off every symptom, and while it didn’t feel great, it shone a light on why I was spiraling. So, I started searching: How to heal anxious attachment after a breakup.

Surprisingly, there’s a wealth of information out there! One article, accompanied by videos, resonated deeply with me. It has put me on a path that I believe will finally start my healing journey.

We can resent the algorithms, AI, and the eerie feeling that our phones are “listening” to us, but sometimes they lead us exactly where we need to go. They also reveal what we’re obsessing over.

Right now, I feel such relief. I know the healing process will ebb and flow, but I finally have more tools to help me navigate it. For anyone struggling with this as I do, this has been the most helpful resource I’ve come across in a long time.

Connection

Last night, I was reflecting on why I feel the need to post so much when I go through heartache. I realized it’s my way of seeking connection—of trying to find meaning. When I talk aloud to people, I think more clearly and in turn I am able to come to revelations about why I am the way I am. Talking helps me grow as a person. I don’t have a support system in place for the heavy times, I don’t even have a support system for lighter and happier times, so I write my heart out to anyone who will listen or read.

When I’m in a relationship, I talk to my partner. That relationship becomes the only relationship I need. But when that relationship ends, I find myself in a space of extreme solitude. A space where I need someone I trust, yet there’s no one to turn to—no one to just pick up the phone and vent to, cry to, or lean on. There is no one there to help lift me back up. I know some people would say, “Just call!” but in that headspace, I don’t want to burden people I haven’t spoken to in months, or even years, with a blubbering call just because I’m hurting. So, I suffer alone. I always have.

I’m realizing that I need to build stronger connections, and I know this is where my current lesson lies. My goal this year is to cultivate genuine, healthy, friendships. I know I can handle my inner world, but I also know I need connection. That starts by giving people my time—by reaching out to those I love spending time with and fostering bonds that can grow into something stronger and more meaningful.

Tap Out

I have been thinking about my life and my heart more intensely over the past 12 hours than I have in an entire year. I am heartbroken—again. But this time, the pain is different. It feels different. I shared parts of myself in a way I never have before, only to be told they didn’t want a relationship.

When I am alone, I have moments of great loneliness, especially before I started loving myself. But that loneliness is nothing compared to the pain in my heart right now.

Cardin made a comment to me last night that was hard to hear. He said I get attached to people too quickly. If I look at it that way, Aaron and I were together for six months, friends for two to three months before that. The pain I feel is more than just losing a lover—I lost a best friend.

I have cut so many people out of my life over the past year—people who have violated my friendship, my body, my trust in some way or another. I wish I could leave this state, start fresh somewhere without memories lurking around every corner. This place haunts me now.

I feel like the Universe has been trying to push me into solitude for years. I lay down my fight. I tap out. I am ready to learn this lesson. I am ready for the solitude that beckons at my door.

I have unpublished all my past posts. They are versions of myself I choose to keep only for me. This is day one of my new life. Day one of finally listening.

Deep soul work is hard work—many choose not to do it, blaming some mental ailment as the reason they cannot. Or an unwillingness to step away from people and places that no longer serve them. I will never understand this. But I now realize these are not my people. Perhaps there is no one on this planet like me. And that thought no longer brings me sadness, as it once did.

I am okay letting the world be what it is. I will share how I get through things, because I think that is why I am here.