One of the confusing things about Bipolar Condition is our inability to see nuances. Everything is black or white with very few subtleties. It’s hard on those around us even though, once aware of it, we try to spare people the worst of our knee-jerk reactions.
It’s most obvious (to me anyway) with my perception of past situations. Life is compartmentalized into good/bad, best of times/worst of times. Anyone wonder if Dickens was Bipolar? Only this morning, chatting to Badger, I realized that I’d done this and had to put on my pith helmet to hack my way back into my youth and start unearthing anomalies. After over forty years an adult, I’m used to looking at my childhood with that golden glow of “idealized past” and it came as a shock to start the archaeological dig and remember that although I had wonderful friends and was privileged enough to grow up in a gorgeous setting, my home-life was appalling. Even though the house, above, was a minor palace. Somehow I’d kept the pretty box but looking inside was a shock. Hmm.. might have to learn a bit of grey to get more perspective on things.
With a checkered job history like mine it goes good, bad, good, good, worst ever, amazing… so I had to do the same again. Surprise again. Even the one that had sat on a shelf marked “dreadful” was a mine of fantastic experiences when I looked into the file more closely. Yes, working at a zoo was a very bad life-choice for an animal activist even if my motives were to change things from within. Had I not done that job I would never have met my beloved Ragar, my raven, could never have learned falconry or ended up with a Goffin’s Cockatoo hanging off my ear like jewelry, blood spurting everywhere and muttering obscenities over the throat mike. All material for the memoirs!
Every day is a learning opportunity for all of us, but for us, the Bippies, the mixed-up, the dented-memory-box folks, some days are a better school-day than others!