Like a baby bird
Looked up at me in expectation
Of who knows what
Maybe just love
And your velvetsoft skin
Against my cheek was bliss
to my heart and his
Look at him
Touch his wet face when he cries
Sip the tears from his skin
The way I do
All I ask is that you love him
[and let me gaze upon your love in his eyes]
“When you are in a dark place, let me light just a few candles and play in the shadows with you. Let me run a hot bath and rub the kinks of life from your neck, back, and brow. Let me bask in the beauty with you.”
I have this picture of my beloved… he is sitting in our bathroom nude, on the edge of the tub, and the room is nearly pitch black, save for a few important details. His incredible hair is resting in curls and folds on his right shoulder, and is catching light off of a candle resting lit on the toilet seat. There is a glow lighting up his face just barely, his characteristic nose and full lips, the glow of a lit bowl. His eyes are fixed on the medicine, both hands engaged in this process, his process of functional sanity, a gentle call back into his body. I adore this picture.
This particular photo was taken moments after a bipolar episode. His brain was clearly firing in ridiculous decibels and his negativity beginning to heighten, per usual. My gut instinct told me to start running a bath and by some magnificent stroke of miracle, managed to convince him towards the hot tub. This time i didn’t take off my undies and climb in with him. I retrieved a glass of cold water and his half-consumed beer (which i placed beside him on the tub), weed jar, pipe, and lighter, and sat next to him on the edge of the tub. I first lit two candles with the lighter, than prepared his medicine by candlelight. I set the filled bowl onto the toilet, and began to rub his neck, a risky move on my part, as this can excite the episode further. But again, i was listening to my my gut instinct, and as if by magic, it worked. His breathing began to regulate, he closed his eyes, and i could feel a change in his body just by touching his warm, wet skin.
Each episode of his diagnosed bipolar 2 is different. They feel similar and I know when one is beginning, but as far as a proven-true method of diffusing the intense energy, i am still utilizing trial and error. There is one thing, however, that is ever-present in his life and provides a slight, yet nearly definite release from the intensity: marijuana.
I stood up from the bath and he proceeded to sit up on the edge and brought the bowl to his lips, lighter in his right hand. The air felt suddenly calm. It was not a calm caused by the medicine, i truly feel that my urging the comfort of hot water, and my keeping calm through the process was what began to gently hush the chaos. And, standing in the bathroom doorway witnessing this, i felt the need to take a picture of this energetic transition. The weed began to comfort his tired body and exhausted brain, and shortly after, we went to bed peacefully.
So this is his “crazy”. He warned me of this when we first became intertwined as friends, lovers, and confidants, but i could never have anticipated the level of intensity involved with loving a person with bipolar 2. It is a constant game of trial and error, sometimes the antidote is simply staying calm, silent, and taking my own deep breaths. Other times it is taking charge and physically guiding him to a more comfortable environment. But there is one element here, besides weed, that always must be present: unconditional love. First and foremost, for myself. Reminding myself that his ups and downs have nothing to do with me, and often i have found myself repeating aloud, “you are innocent!” amidst the chaos, Including both of us in this statement. The best thing you can do for yourself and your loved one with the label of this disease, is to not get sucked in to the vortex. You must separate yourself, and your beloved, from the diagnosis. He is NOT bipolar. He is creative. He is thoughtful. He is ingenious. Loving. He awes me! He is so much more than a brain and a body. “Bipolar” is not a quality of substance, but merely a medical description of brain activity. And with that, I leave you, to conquer my Friday, meet up with him tonight for some guaranteed-inspiring conversations, and wake up to his warm, beautiful being next to mine tomorrow morning:)
Sending unconditional love to all your relationships,
“You came, right?” I asked him as I slid off of his penis and lay down beside him, out of breath. I felt it, but it seemed like a much deeper ejaculation than usual. His sexual stimulation had started earlier that day, by a new love interest in his life. “yes, lover.” He replied. I lay still for a long moment, to encourage it to ‘stick’, then stood up to use the bathroom and felt the semen, like moonblood, rushing down the walls of my vagina. The droplets glistened on my labia, began to drip down my leg, and stretched between my thighs. I was too blissed out to do much right away, so I just let the fluid drip and engrossed myself in the moment. The dumping dopamine was attempting to conquer, but my head was still full of the nagging fear that I had been wrestling with for a few days, since he started talking again about new romantic prospects on the horizon for himself.
These thoughts of insecurity and fear have been quite aggressive since he started talking about it again, and we have gone through it before, but we are still new at nonmonogamy. And this time is a bit different. We are trying to make a baby. Interesting emotions are coming up out of this, and we have a established a code word for the moments where I feel like I am going to bust from the jealousy, fear, and insecurity. Instead of letting it take over the moment and hijack my emotions and tearducts, I can simply say, “that thing” Or “bottled up”. And he knows what is happening. I don’t know what to do in these moments. They are terrifying, and make my heart race, like jumping off a cliff. Jealousy (fear and insecurity) rouses in me the urge to squeeze a tiny soft bunny until it bursts. And I am not a horrible person.
So these are the moments where I know I have two options. I could just peace out. Turn the feelings off, put them on the back burner, opt out of this type of relationship. ‘If I was in a monogamous relationship,’ I tell myself, ‘ I wouldn’t feel like killing a bunny. I would just turn the jealousy off’. But where do those feelings go when you just set them aside for… later? Where does jealousy go to die? Nowhere. It remains dormant, until you actively choose to kill it. Many monogamous relationships depend on this dormancy for survival. Hoping and praying that it wont have to be faced. I have done that, many times over. And each time, the relationship ended in an explosion, the unearthing of months, years of honest, human emotions bottled up. Monogamy is still an option, and in reactionary emotional periods, it can feel very tempting.
The second choice… is to uncork the bottle, and keep it uncorked. Live nonmonogamously because I know its what is true to myself, my partner, and our connection. Do battle with aggressive emotions on a regular basis. Turn the light on this dark, scary monster and look it straight in the eye, night after night. New metamour after new metamour. As I choose to bravely expose my tender underbelly to the harsh emotional elements over and over, I notice I am slowly grow a hard, strong shell in the face of the terror. It comes up as familiar, and at least at this point I can anticipate my reaction. I can’t always stop it, or ‘just breathe’ it away all the time. But I know now this is what I choose. Even with the prospect of pregnancy. Especially with this prospect. I have never seen his devotion, commitment clearer than I have since trying for a baby. So I push on, accepting and loving his new metamour, even if from afar for the time being. I know that when I observe and work hard at not letting my emotions control me, sweet compersion will come, as it always does.
And the big work continues… until next time.
Sending unconditional love to all your relationships,