with love, r.h.

To Switzerland,

           You, dear one, believe so much in reformation. You make lists, you volunteer your time, and you try your best. You hope beyond hope that you will see not just renovation, but revolution, within your lifetime.

           I, like you, believe that we can fix this—that we can rebuild—grow, teach, learn.

           So, you endlessly dream up ways to make this life better, this world better. You strive for equitable transformation because you want to ensure that everyone remains on equal footing and that anything that must be judged is done so fairly, even to the detriment of your own self.

           Afraid of corruption, you fall so far back into moral upstanding that others often wonder if you have ever done any wrong, and it is OK to let them see that you have. You are human, and your mistakes do not mean that you are not still so very good. One mishap does not make you unethical. One blunder does not make you less principled. If anything, your flaws make you that much more qualified to advocate for better understanding.

           In your chase for knowledge and perfection, you will often be met with disappointment because the people around you will not always have the answers, and they will certainly not always be as invested in finding them out as you are, but do not let that stop you from trying.

           While some may see you as rigid or robotic because you can come across as detached from other humans as you work towards massive social change in the background, do not forget to stop and listen. The connections you make with others will serve you well, and their feelings—although you cannot always understand them—will help you grow.

           You are doing everything right, and I cannot help but love you for your convictions. Never stop longing for a more idyllic world, for yours are the visions that thrust us forward.

All my love and support,

r.h.

P.S. I wish the world had more people like you in it. I think we’d all be a lot better off if there were.

Song: One by Sleeping At Last

To Everybody’s Caretaker,

           I know that you so often feel lost—so often feel worthless—and as though those around you do not really need or cherish your love, but that logic is flawed. You are not a transaction, and others’ love for you does not come at a price.

           You, my little snickerdoodle, so often focus your energies on your friends and partners that you can only somehow see their strengths and not your own, but let me tell you, this kindness does not make you weak. Your supportive nature does not make you simple. And your compassion does not make you so easy to take advantage of.

           Although…you are easy to take advantage of. But, that is not your fault. You trust and you give and you try, and it is not a reflection of your nature when people misuse you. It is not a reflection of your nature when others are greedy and abusive.

           You, instead, are responsible for your own shine—and shine, you do. Only, not frequently and long-lasting enough because you always find yourself falling back into old habits. Self-care, instead, falls to the wayside, and you begin tending again to your little community.

           You over-extend. You find yourself growing tired, and you feel selfish for feeling fatigued—guilty for not having the energy to carry on the way you have been. You pour from an empty cup. You do not know when you last ate, but you remind your friends to drink some water. You do not have a therapy session booked because you just “can’t find the time,” but you tell your friends to take their medicine. As your ability to cater wavers, you think, “I just have to do this one last act, and then I’ll have earned the time to rest.” But you never rest.

           Darling one, you cannot best take care of anyone else if you do not first start taking care of yourself. Rest is productive, and it needn’t be earned by acts of selflessness and generosity. Rather, your body must be given time to recharge. You, and that soft way of thinking of yours, must be given time to reset; you must allow yourself this. And if you don’t, you are going to crumble. I know that you know this because you’ve been falling apart all along.

           But I am here to piece you back together again. I am here to show you that the love you give to everyone else can be shared with you, too. And even if I do not last, even if I cannot uphold this forever, please know that your capacity to love resides within you; It is not the byproduct of the people you are serving, and when it comes down to it, please remember that you are capable of giving yourself the type of love that you deserve, even if no one else can or does.

With the gentleness and ferocity that is housed within us both,

r.h.

P.S. You don’t always have to shoulder everyone else’s problems, and it is not self-centered to take care of your own needs before you make yourself weary taking care of others.

Song: Two by Sleeping At Last

To the Over-Achiever,

           Driven and accomplish-laden, your ambition to rise to the top is unparalleled, but do not forget that your body deserves breaks, too. Afraid of failure and feedback resistant, you wade through the waters of professionalism until you arrive safely to the other side. You carry whatever stragglers you find with you along the way.

           You are not worthless. You can never be worthless—not only because of your distinctive intrinsic worth, but also, because I see that you are working so hard not to be. I see how you would never let yourself fall into that subdivision. I see you.

           Dedicated to your goals and task-oriented, you want so much to continually improve, and my darling, do you continually improve. I know because I’ve watched you grow—shape—change forms and metamorphosis in to the you that you are today.

           But I know that you struggle. I know you focus too much on success and not enough on accepting your failures, but my god, you are human.

           And you are going to fail.

           I know you don’t want to hear that, but I’ve advice, still. Next time, fail more spectacularly. Fail better. I challenge you to fail again. Can you manage that accomplishment, sweet love? And if you can, I’ll be so proud. But if you can’t—just give it time. For, I know, when given time, you will eventually achieve all the chores that have been laid out before you.

           Because you are self-aware, I believe that you understand that your value does not lie in what and how much you can accomplish in any given timeframe, but I know, too, that you so very often refuse to let your soul rest. But you have to let yourself rest; the child within you deserves to finally be able to rest.

           Remember that you are one person, and that you do not have to accomplish the to-do list of an entire office every single time you bring yourself to work. You are not required to run every errand and do every chore—not on your own, and especially not within the mere moments you are holding yourself so rigidly to.

           Stop trying to impress other people. Focus on yourself and who you are. Let your accolades fall away from you, and allow yourself to feel worthy without them—without the self-imposed allegation that others will expect more from you than you can give to them. You are enough.

With every conviction I can muster,

r.h.

P.S. There is no wrong decision. Any decision that you make will be the right one because you have made it.

Song: Three by Sleeping at Last

To the Artist Within,

           Sketched in intellectual artistry, I see a person whose strength lies in staying true to themselves. I see the person standing in front of me offering up who they are and hoping so intensely that others will just take them as they come. You, like the finest canvas, stretch your arms out and reach for identity. This unique ability to carve yourself out of nothingness leaves you met with awe as those around you try so desperately to match your authenticity.

           Prone to isolation and melancholy, others may see you as a brooding poet, though I know that your depth can only be compared to the ocean, or, more dramatically, perhaps, to that of an unbelievably large stage. But don’t let others tell you that your sensitivity is too much. You are never “too much.”

           In your quest to master the difficult, you must remember that not everyone else will want to do the same, and that that’s OK. This challenge to yourself then becomes yet another way that you stand out among the crowd.

           Fashioned from buttons and thread, you hold your creations to the sky and demand that others recognize your efforts. You do not require that they like it because you know that their taste is not yours, but it’s alright to be upset from time-to-time when you find out that you’re not always for others.

           You follow your interests and your passions because you know that they will lead you where you need to go. And it is admirable, my little pan pastel, that you never want to stop achieving, but there will come a point where you are going to want to learn to be happy where you are.

           Painted in the balance between logic and emotion, you drip honesty from your lash-line like teardrops. Like a good rubbing, you’ve made more of an impact in me than you know, and I, for one, cannot wait to continue watching you grow.

Love, your biggest fan,

r.h.

P.S. Believe in what you need to create, and don’t let other people influence that creativity because they will always want to impose their thoughts onto yours. But don’t make those thoughts yours.

Song: Four by Sleeping at Last

To the Ever-Curious,

           There is something about you, sweet lover, that I just can’t put my finger on. Like a mystery I’ve already read but that I can’t quite remember the ending to, you astonish me.

           Observant and free-thinking—you radiate open-mindedness. But it’s also OK to not care for the things that other people seem to think are so important. You just need to develop the confidence necessary to know that you are not the only one to have these thoughts. And you’re not “crazy.”

            As hard-working as they come, you could never be useless. Never helpless. Never incompetent. And although you can come across to others as tundra-esque, it is not your fault that they do not understand your aloofness.

           I know that you struggle to relate to others—that, sometimes, emotions feel so foreign to you—but that does not mean that you don’t have just the biggest heart. And I see—beyond the skyline nestled in your irises—that you are trying. I would never discount the efforts you are putting in.

           When afforded the opportunity for alone time, you take it. And I would never dream of withholding that from you. So you best believe that I know, with everything you have inside of you, that when you give up your alone time to spend it with me—that’s something very special. I cherish that—and you.

           It is OK to ask for help, stubborn one. And it’s OK if you ask it of me. I will never see you as lesser because you do not understand or because you require the kind of assistance that we all do from time to time. I will never see you as incapable just because you have a question. And I could never write you off just because you didn’t quite “get it” the first go around.

           Connect with me, lover. Let me feel the way you think—the way you process—and let me relish it.

I need you in the same ways that you need understanding,

r.h.

P.S. Don’t lose your spark. Don’t let people squash your curiosity. You are allowed to be curious. You are allowed to ask questions, and if people can’t accept that, then they’re not the right people for you.

Song: Five by Sleeping at Last

To Those on Unsteady Footing,

           Humorous as a means of deflection from your feelings while simultaneously very kind to draw people in, you always leave others wanting more. Afraid of losing connection with those you love and all the traction of the spark you’ve built up around them, you stumble through life—arms full and weighted down—with baggage that is not even all your own.

           Suitcases stacked upon your shoulders carry the weight of other people’s expectations and problems, which you take on the burden of to show them that you love them. And that’s generous, but the problem is that they keep letting you carry these things all on your own.

           Loyal to a fault, your legs begin to buckle under the heaviness of the things you’re forcing yourself to carry. Here, dear one, let me take some of the load off. These things are too draining a problem for just one soul.

           Dedicated to your cause, you pause, and you resist letting me help you because “what if I am burdened with these things and then I leave?” But I’m not going anywhere, sweet one, and that black-and-white thinking will get you nowhere.

           My little problem solver with a tendency to doubt oneself to the point of exhaustion, let me help you—you never let anybody help you. But I’m standing before you telling you that I want to, of my own volition, and that my helping will in no way later cause me to want to go away from you.

           Let us step out of the baggage claim area—out of this place where you have made yourself so comfortable—together. If you set down just a few more pieces of luggage, you can take my hand, and we can be on our way.

           And don’t worry about the suitcases you’re not ready to let go of yet, for I have all the time in the world to help you unpack them.

With all the encouragement and support that you, too, have to offer,

r.h.

P.S. If you set the standard of never asking for help, it will be assumed that you don’t need it. So, don’t take on everything. Do continue to give your all, but have boundaries.

Song: Six by Sleeping at Last

To Those Afraid to Take a Step Back,

           More easy-going than most, you, sweet soul, surprise the masses with your energy. Spontaneous and always on-the-go, I see your restlessness as an itch you’ve never truly been able to reach to scratch, but that’s never really stopped you from trying.

           Despite any danger or cause for concern, you want to try it all. Hungry for life—always expectant and wanton for more—you gobble up opportunities like bubblegum, and when the taste no longer serves you, you spit them out and start afresh.

           Calm in a crisis, as living on the edge is where you prefer to stay, you schmooze with the best of them, but you have trouble with long-term goals because the payoff is just so far into the future. I can help with that.

           My little mountain-mover, you always manage to find the silver-lining, but you have such trouble seeing the value of what’s already laid out in front of you. Permanently ready for what comes next, you sometimes gloss over living in the now, which is ironic, because you pride yourself on being a creature of instant gratification.

           Whole in the wild, you outstretch your arms and grasp for freedom, but you forget that independence and autonomy are already yours.

           With the ferocity to assert yourself when you need to, there is no one who dares to cross your path unprepared. That intensity, too, means that you have it in you to face and work through the negative emotions playing on loop in the background. And I know that the fear of missing out is real, but you have got to take a moment of pause. You have to, or you will run yourself into the ground; you’re already knee-deep.

           I know you feel like “too much”—that you think you over-share yourself, that you’re too open—but, darling, that is your truth, and it could never make “too much.”

Ever-flourishing, like your existence,

r.h.

P.S. Slow down. Breathe. Think before you jump.

Song: Seven by Sleeping At Last

To the Hesitant,

           You, as the utmost of utmost badasses, house within you an entire encyclopedia of Dungeons and Dragons classes.

           You are a Fighter—strong enough to be armored, even from a young age—you come at problems headfirst, and you know how to lead.

           You are a Barbarian—a battle cry fit to ward off even the worst of predators. You are a Monk—to save yourself, so that you can save the world.

           Wait, no, a Bard because you have the wherewithal to inspire others to pick up a blade and save themselves. But if they cannot save themselves, you transmute into a Paladin to do the saving for them.

           Serving as a Ranger, you remove yourself from immediate danger, and your inner Rogue lets you slip into the shadows so that you may breathe—even if only for a moment.

           A Druid—blending in with your surroundings and becoming one with them. A Wizard, here to alter the structures of reality so that others may see what it is that you could not always see. A Cleric—healing both yourself and those around you.

           You—classes aside—stand before me bare, battered, and what some may deem as broken.

           But you—classes aside—are enough of a powerhouse to push through any turmoil or long-form disaster that gets thrown your way.

           But that doesn’t mean you should have to. You should never have had to. Especially not as such a small child.

           Here, now, I am giving you permission to rest—to fold yourself into my arms and find comfort in someone other than yourself. You’ve earned that, even though it should never have been an “earnable” prize to begin with.

Forever on your team,

r.h.

P.S. Don’t waffle. You’ll get better results if you just do it, instead of being afraid of the judgement or the outcome.

Song: Eight by Sleeping At Last

To the Non-Confrontational,

           Thriving in peace, rather than in chaos, you keep routines. Inwardly and outwardly, to avoid confrontation to the best of your ability, you people-please, and it leaves you feeling disconsolate.

           But darling one, conflict is a necessary and beneficial part of life—you just can’t see that yet.

           Rarely angry, you push your feelings to the side to pick up others, which is an injustice to yourself.

           A master of minimizing your own emotions to make room for the emotions of those around you, sweet love, I see in you that you just want to understand every side to every story. And…that’s an admirable trait, but in doing so, you’ve camouflaged yourself in others’ problems.

           An amalgamation of those around you, you have, somehow, lost yourself. This mosaic, then—made up of millions upon millions of crystalline shards—does not serve you, pretty as it may seem to those on the outside.

           Even though you’re motivated by being heard, you continuously stifle yourself and your voice, only really speaking up when others come to you for advice—but even then, you feel it best not to rock the boat too far.

           Break—the glass—I beg of you. Shatter the remains of others in you, and let me help you find the pieces that make up you again. Let us fragment the empathy you give to others to make sure there’s enough left over for you.

           I know how hard it is to know who you are and what you want when you’ve been so caught up in everyone else’s desires and needs, but I believe you have it in you to find your way back home.

           Wanter of a simpler life, one filled with happiness and relaxation—one where you can blend in with society and prove not to be an outcast—you don’t have to have billions of pieces. You are, in fact, allowed to be more whole.

           Follow the North Star back to me—reverse breadcrumbing who it is you’ve always been along the way. I’ve glue to spare and lots of love for you.

With every bit of tape and warmth from my hearth,

r.h.

P.S. If someone does you wrong, speak up about it. You are not their doormat.

Song: Nine by Sleeping At Last

TW: This post is going to talk about self-harm and self-sabotage. There will be a brief mention, in the beginning, of traditional self-harm techniques, but this will not be the focus of the post. This post is not intended to encourage self-harming behaviors.

When most people think of ‘self-harm,’ they imagine burning or cutting or depravation of some sort. What most people don’t realize, however, is that self-harm is so much more intensive than that. Take me, for instance—I self-harm all the time. Only, you can’t see it because it doesn’t come in the form of a scar or a bruise, but emotionally, I rip myself to shreds. I spend money that I know I can’t afford to be spending. I force myself to work over-time—at multiple jobs—with no concrete end date. I allow myself to be lodged in situations where I am being treated poorly by those who are supposed to care for me. I disregard my own boundaries. I make poor decisions—knowing that they are poor decisions. I don’t leave room, or time, to take care of myself, and I neglect all of my own needs to take care of the needs of others.

When a person in a relationship—whether platonic or romantic—has bipolar disorder, the symptoms can often affect both people. These interferences will arise in a variety of situations—whether manic or depressed—and they will manifest differently based on the personalities of the persons involved and the situation at hand.

One thing I have noticed across the board, though, in both my personal life and the lives of the bipolar individuals around me, is what I’d like to call an escapist tendency. This tendency can manifest in any mood or altered state, but I see it creep up most often in romantic relationships—particularly when the relationship seems to be going a bit ‘too well.’

I know—that doesn’t really seem to make sense. If things are going well, isn’t that good? Yeah, of course it is. But for people with bipolar disorder, for those of us who are always waiting for the other shoe to drop, being in a romantic relationship that makes us so incredibly happy also often reminds us that there is a big downswing waiting just on the other side. Because we live cyclically. And that’s destructive thinking, yes, but, sometimes, we can’t pry ourselves away from it because it’s all we’ve ever known. Up, then down. Up, then down. Over and over again. And the more encompassing the high, the mightier the fall.

So, when things are really good? We have a tendency to run. Because it’s better to remove ourselves from the situation than it is to watch such a beautiful thing come crashing to the ground, right? Especially if we feel that wonderful thing is crumbling because of us and the way that we exist.

What I’ve noticed, then, is that, instead, we disappear. We push people away, and then we exit their lives slowly—casually. Or, we forgo the pushing them away stage and just straight-up ghost them, leaving them to wonder whether or not we were ever even real. And while that is nowhere near fair to the people that this keeps happening to, I cannot say that it makes us any less prone to be “runners.”

A couple of weeks ago, my therapist asked me, “What makes you happy?” and I was not only baffled, but upset, when my first and only response—at least, for some time—was “I don’t know. Nothing, really.”

And while, if you’re fighting and living with a disorder that has depression as a characteristic, you might find that statement not to be all that shocking—I was still surprised because one thing I’ve always prided myself on is being a happy and optimistic individual. But…how can I be happy and optimistic if I’m not…happy?

So, like most realizations therapy causes, I sat in it for a bit, and during the next session, I told my therapist that “Love makes me happy. I love love.” And I confessed this not only because I was in a relationship that made me feel like love, personified—but because I know that my best friends would do anything for me, and because Valentine’s Day is my favorite (and honestly, only celebrated) holiday—no matter whether I’m in a romantic relationship or not. Still, I needed to sit in this some more.

By my next session, I had had an epiphany, and the epiphany was that the problem I was having was perspective. Because I had felt happiness before, so why wasn’t I feeling it as intensely now?

It’s because I was stable.

You see, mania really does a lot, both to the body and the mind. And while it is absolutely not always positive or joyful, I have experienced manic episodes in which I was in total euphoria. And in those episodes? I love everything. Everything—literally any non-negative thing—brings me so much unbridled bliss when I’m in the midst of euphoric mania, and that is something I wouldn’t trade for the world.

However, it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows (or whatever it is that you find particularly inviting and lovely.) In fact, not only do we have non-euphoric manic episodes, but we also have paranoia, psychosis, and major depression. Alongside this? When we’re stable (which is what people without bipolar disorder people may consider to be ‘normal’)—we’re often bored.

So, what has happened to me over time is that, when I’m not experiencing euphoric mania, it feels to my brain as though I’m not “truly” happy, even when that’s not necessarily the case. This, then, of course, triggers my depression because “If I’m not happy, then something must be horrifically wrong.” It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s one that’s incredibly hard to fall out of.

Now that I’m aware of it, however, I’ve been trying quite hard to fight against that. I’ve been making a point to do things for myself, rather than to always only do things for others, and I’ve even been learning to celebrate my own small victories. Both of these are helping tremendously, but that feeling still looms over me.

Now, by the title, you may think that this article is about learning to love your bipolar diagnosis, and, in a roundabout way, it sort of is. But more so, this piece serves as a reminder that having bipolar disorder does not make you unlovable.

Content warning for parental abuse and neglect in the first paragraph and for mildly graphic mentions of self-harm and suicide at the end of the first paragraph; mentions of death and domestic violence in paragraph three.

Some backstory:

When I was young, my biggest fear is that I would grow up to be exactly like my bipolar mother. And this scared me, not because of her diagnosis, but because of how she behaved. She did not take medication. She did not go to therapy. I watched as she pushed every person in her life away and then cried. She manipulated people. She abused drugs and alcohol, often to the point where she chose those things over her own children. I was neglected and traumatized. At age eleven, I even watched her slit her own wrists and listened to her tell me that if I left in response, she would kill herself. And the last thing I ever wanted was to have kids because I couldn’t bear the thought that I could ever even possibly make them feel half as bad as I did.

As I drifted through life from age twenty-one to age twenty-seven, I lost my ability to self-validate, and I forgot exactly how I used to self-soothe. I was, instead, dependent on others for consolation and for authentication, and, while I was aware of how unhealthy that was, I didn’t know how to stop it.

At twenty-seven, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, too, and the fear that I would “end up exactly like my mother” resurged—only this time, it sprung to life with bonus atrocities because now, I also feared for my relationships. My mom was in an on-again-off-again abusive one until she died. My examples of relationships, then, showed me that “people can’t love me without being intoxicated” and that “no one ‘normal’ will love me because I’m ‘crazy.’” I internalized these from a young age and carried them with me through adulthood. It was only with the help of therapy and medication that I was able to unlearn those negative thoughts and begin to relearn healthier ones.

That said, small parts of me still very much hated other, much larger parts of me. And, with all of my self-discontent, I couldn’t see how anyone would want me. Because dating people with bipolar disorder, I thought, was a life-sentence. I knew that it was difficult, excruciating—even, from both first- and second-hand experiences, and because of that, I knew that if I didn’t have bipolar disorder, there was no way in hell that I would ever date someone who does. That warped thinking came from a special form of self-loathing.

Fast forward to twenty-eight:

I have just suffered a hellacious ankle injury that left me immobile for months. I’m going through the worst depressive episode of my life after a year-long manic episode, and my partner—whom, for months, I had been absolutely petrified and paranoid was going to break up with me because of my mood disorder—breaks up with me because she cannot “handle” me now that I’m so “down.” Cue: homelessness and the sad reassurance that everything awful I feel about myself must be true.

But I’m almost done with university, and I have friends who—thankfully—will always have my back. So, I keep showing up. Despite this gaping pit of depression I can’t seem to claw my way out of, I continue going to classes. Most of them. Somehow, I do my course work, even if it’s not 100% my best work. I let it come down to the wire, and then I force myself to write my 74-page capstone. I keep going to therapy. Every session. I keep taking my medication—every day, like clockwork. I am on autopilot, and while I do not feel even the slightest bit human, I am, surprisingly, still managing my life in a way that does not lead directly to destruction.

Until I met him, and then…suddenly, I didn’t have to just “manage” anymore. You see, E’s the first person I’ve ever been interested in who also has bipolar disorder. And while I was not looking for him, he still found me—as love often does.

In his bones, I found shelter—not from the outside world, but from myself—and with his unknowing aid, I unraveled parts of myself that I thought were so far gone I would never see them again. Through his words, I discovered that I was capable of restitching the fragments of myself that I used to keep hidden away beneath my floorboards. As he grew, I grew, and as he learned, I did, too. In E’s eyes, I began to see the reflection of a me that I had missed for so many years—a me that I didn’t even think existed anymore. Because he has bipolar disorder and I am so madly in love with him, I revealed to myself that people can and will have the capacity to love me—even if I’m bipolar—in the same exact ways and to the very depths and intensities that I so love him.

And that revelation was life-changing for me. But this is not one of those stories where the princess is rescued by a knight who receives all of the glory, despite the efforts she may have put in. Instead, this is an allegory for how other humans may serve as beautiful and necessary catalysts for your own love and hard work. Because while I could not have done this anywhere close to as easily or as quickly—or, hell, maybe even ever at all—without him, it is still I who had these epiphanies. It is still I who connected all of these dots. But, don’t get me wrong, I am forever grateful to E for putting me into this specifically aligned place where I was able to view through him an entire future that’s so much happier and more well-adjusted than any future I had dreamt up before.

What these last few months have taught me is that bipolar self-love is magnificent. It’s awe-inspiring, all-encompassing, and transcendent. Bipolar romantic love is very much the same—passionate, cavernous, transformative.

To all of my bipolar babes who feel that they are unlovable—you are not. You are not something to “deal with.” You are not someone to simply “handle.” You are a force to be reckoned with, and despite what anyone says about how bipolar disorder makes one “unfunctional,” you are living proof that that is not the case.

You are enough.

You have always been enough.