Down the Rabbit Hole, Part Two: "The Landing"

…down, down, down.

Alice was growing very bored and very sleepy. How long had she been "falling?" What will happen when she lands? With nothing much to do but think, Alice quickly realized that her absence will leave all of her responsibilities to others. Her anxiety over the situation grows, and with no one else around, she begins talking to herself as if it were a common thing to do in this situation.

Who knows how long she will be gone? What if no one remembers to give her cat her milk? And with the thought of being gone forever of course, now she is concerned. Can she trust that someone will take over for her? Sure, she’s only 7, but in Alice’s mind she is very important.

Who will feed her cat? What if no one does? Will she be okay? She misses Dinah and soon imagines she is talking with her. And it is certainly not strange to be talking to a cat. “Dinah, my dear! I wish you were here with me!” But then again, maybe it was a good thing Dinah stayed behind; there are no mice in the air (and mice her Dinah's favorite). She continued wondering out loud, as if Dinah were next to her.
But maybe there could be bats. They’re mouse-like, right? Can Dinah even catch a bat? Wait…has her cat ever eaten a bat? Has any cat ever eaten a bat? Or, maybe, has a bat ever eaten a cat? As stated in the book …she couldn’t answer either question, so it didn’t matter which way she put it. All of this seemed like quite normal conversation to have with oneself. Or with a cat. “Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?” She was not sure if she expected an answer. It certainly would not surprise her.

And after she began to doze off, she landed.

THUD. She’s knocked back into the moment. She brushes herself off.

She looked around, and there he was. The White Rabbit! The moment she catches a glimpse of the creature with a waistcoat and pocket watch, he disappeared.

Alice wandered into a long corridor with dozens of locked doors. And considering how things had been going so far, she knows she will not be able to get through a single one. Of course. That would be too easy. And she was right.

But then she sees a key, sitting on a 3-legged glass table that she swears was not there before. She hesitates, but gives it a try. The key is pointless; it does not open a single door. But determined to get out of the long hallway, she tried the key in every door again. And just like the glass table that seemed to appear while she was not looking, Alice finds an additional door behind a small curtain. She tried they key again, and to her surprise, it worked! Relieved, she unlocked the door. But again, as fate would have it, Alice cannot even fit her head through this door.

Peeking through the opening, Alice could see what appears to be a beautiful English garden just like the ones she had only heard about in books and only seen in paintings. And there it was, right in front of her.
“…even if my head would go through, it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, if only I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

For Alice, the problem is not that the door is too small; it is that she is too big.

Hoping for another key to show up, Alice stands up, collects herself, and heads back to the table. As stated in the book, “For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.”

This is when she finds a bottle on the table where the key had once been, and it was labeled “Drink Me.”

Despite the wave of optimism that had surged over her, Alice wasn’t about to do that in any hurry.

“If you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is
almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.”

But this bottle was not marked “poison,” and as soon as she determined it was safe to drink, Alice found the taste to be so delightful that quickly finished off the whole bottle. 

Alice liked to give herself good advice, even though she seldom ever followed it.

Finding Balance

Many professionals in the mental health practice, as well as numerous sufferers of bipolar disorder, often say that in order to have a fulfilling and stable life, one must be able to find a “balance” between the opposing forces of the mind and body.

But what is balance, really? 

Webster’s defines it as: noun a; the state of having your weight spread equally so that you do not fall b; the ability to move or to remain in a position without losing control or falling c; a state in which different things occur in equal or proper amounts or have an equal or proper amount of importance.

Balance is invisible. Nothing is ever truly balanced; it is an unreachable state. Balance is warding off  outside forces. Balance is the fight against “imbalance.”

Remember that game where you try balancing a broomstick on the palm of your hand to see who can hold it the longest? Someone may have held it the longest, but eventually that broomstick fell victim to gravity. Or what about trying to balance a book on the top of your head as you try to walk in a straight line? Impossible. It will fall almost every single time.

Take Yoga for example. If you've ever tried the Dancer’s Pose, you probably found it to be rather difficult at first. After a lot of training, it becomes easier, but the entire purpose of the pose is to be able to fight the imbalance long enough to be able to perform. Once you are in the position, you don’t just stay there; your weight is unevenly distributed and your body’s muscles are trying to work together to keep you from falling over. Being in the Dancer’s Pose is not balance; it is just fighting being unbalanced. Think of it as pretending to be what you are not.

The same can be true for bipolar disorder. There is never a time when everything seems to be in its place. The planets never align. There is never “balance.” Instead, the illusion of balance is covering up opposing forces that are constantly trying to keep us from reaching equilibrium. Thoughts and emotions from every part of the spectrum are flooding our heads at every moment. When we want to stand, they push us down. When we want to fall, they keep us up. It is a constant tug-of-war. Both sides are strong. Both sides are weak. But they are always at odds. Sometimes, one side will slip a little, giving leverage to the other side. Sometimes, both sides will be determined to knock the other side into oblivion. But that ribbon in the middle of the rope will never stay in place. It is always moving. Back and forth, until one side gives in just enough to allow the other side to have the advantage, even for just a moment.

To tell someone with bipolar that finding a balance is necessary to feeling better, you are limiting that person to a life of servitude. If I, a person afflicted with bipolar, am supposed to be balanced, then I am doing a horrible job. “Balance” is not being neutral, or normal. “Balance” is not waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night. It is not control over “highs” and “lows.”

“Balance” is a concept we invented as a standard by which to live. We are always in the Dancer’s Pose, we always have a broomstick on the palms of our hands, and we always have that book on our heads. We have to be careful or we will fall. At best, it is a fantasy. At worst, it is a delusion.

Balance isn't for everyone. It isn't even for most people.

I have a necklace with glass beads linked together. Most of the beads are clear, but two of them are black. For most people, the black beads would be in the center. On this necklace, they are to the side. People constantly try to correct it, telling me that it has slipped a bit. “No, it’s supposed to be that way,” I say as I smile and touch the necklace. The look I receive is usually one of “hm.”

Why would someone choose to live a little bit to the side?

Because I know that gravity will always win, and that eventually one side will give in, and that heads are round and books are flat, and that sometimes waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night is not possible. And that’s totally fine.

Hm. 

Filter Free Amerika

I was recently the guest on my friend's podcast, Filter Free Amerika.
We talked for 2 hours about mental health, but more specifically we just talked about me.
But really, we mostly just joked around and made dick jokes.
http://filterfreeamerika.podbean.com/If you have the time, or if you need something to listen to while doing something mundane, check out the website to listen or download!

Oh, and please forgive the spelling. Once it's there, you can't go back and change it, and someone made a typo.
You can also listen to it here.

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