Monday, June 16, 2014

My Best Day Ever in 8 Not-Necessarily-Easy Steps

So you know how when you're young they always ask you in school to write about the very best day you've ever had?

I'm having one of those moments, so bear with me.

I've very recently been advised that I may be bipolar. Its not a full diagnoses, but it puts a few thoughts in your brain as to what your life really is. Its kind of funny actually because when you watch all of these "chick-flicks" where something dramatic happens and you find out who your true friends really are, that actually happens. And I wasn't expecting this outcome necessarily, mainly because I've always felt I would be a burden to people I suppose, but all of the friends I've stayed close with through the years stood right up beside me and told me this was something I could handle. Its pretty awesome to have the amazing friends that I do. They were amazing before they told me that, of course, but them having my back like that was an incredible thing to witness.
So with these wonderful people, comes more wonderful people. If you think about it, when all of your close friends are like that, chances are their other friends will be very similar as well. All of this being said, let's go on to my best day ever.

It starts how it ends: with people.

My friend and her fiance know what's been going on in my life and asked me to come to the art festival with them last weekend and meet some of their friends, just hang out and have a good time. The day starts as an average day: Step 1 - Get my ass out of bed. This is a more difficult task than one might imagine what with depression and insomnia asking you to never leave your comfortable pillow top, but eventually the heat of two sleeping canine bodies gives you the need to remove all blankets--and once that's done you may as well go to the next step of getting out of bed anyways.
Step 2 - Shower. Cleanliness is necessary. Especially after a night with two dogs in your bed.
Step 3 - Panic Attack. Daily recurrences of these beauties are what gives me a perpetual shaking in my right hand. It almost never stops, but the days that I am still are a fleeting oasis that I do not take for granted.
Step 4 - Heart Pills. Since anti-depressants have the reverse effect on me, the only way to make my daily panic attacks come to a screeching halt would be through my fabulous friend Propranolol. This merciful drug makes my heart stop trying to barrage its way through my chest with the power of the angry mob in Beauty and the Beast, and instead sings it a lullaby all the way back down to its gentle, steady rhythm.
Step 5 - Shit. I forgot my Heart Pills. My panic attack begins when I am almost to her apartment. Once I am there I rummage through my purse to discover I left them on my nightstand after having a panic attack in bed in the middle of the night, (insomnia will do this to you).
Step 6 -- Alcohol. Luckily my dear friend is in a frenzied mood as well this morning and suggests a light cocktail to start the day. Have I mentioned how wonderful my friends are?
Step 7 - Drugs. As we walk to meet more of her friends, we discuss the goings on in our brains. As the fiance to this lovely lady suffers from mental disturbances as well, he offers an herbal remedy of which I am very well acquainted, and my mind begins to find its balance. You see, many people smoke to get high. I smoke to stay sane. My brain can be a beautiful and terrifying thing, often all at once. If you've ever seen a computer writing code line, after line, after line, after line, after line, after line...you have seen my brain at work. It starts with one tiny thought and just. keeps. going. I don't smoke to get high. I smoke because it takes my brain from a coding machine to an Instant Messenger conversation in which both you and your friend are busy, so conversation is consistent, but not hurried.
Step 8 - People. Now that my brain is calmed down and ready to handle average-speed conversations with multiple people instead of one ridiculously fast-paced conversation with itself, I am introduced to a new friend group. And let me tell you, these people are extraordinary. Since my depression began I started changing from a social butterfly to a hermit to someone who gets so anxious they are terrified to even go to the grocery store. Meeting new people can be fun when I'm on an upswing and feeling good, but on a down swing the last thing that I want is people. Usually. Thank God for these friends. Have I mentioned how wonderful my friends are? Because their friends are just as equally amazing. I know two of the thirteen people I am with, but even with my morning panic attack and my social anxiety and my deep desire to whither away in my own bed, they make me feel comfortable. I don't know if you caught that so I'm going to say it again: They make me feel comfortable. So comfortable, that even after the two friends that I know leave, I stay for another four hours. I get all dressed up with the girls. I stay another 3 hours. We go out dancing. I danced the night away with a handsome fellow I just met that day. I just met these people and they care enough to make me 100% part of this group, enough to make sure I make it back to my friend's apartment okay, enough to offer two couches and an inflatable mattress and spend the night, enough to give me a number and make me swear on my life I will text them the second I get home to let them know I made it back safe.

Finding friends like this leaves me speechless. Leaves me with a smile I can go back to any time I am having the worst day of my life. Because to me, being surrounded by this number and quality of exceptional people, this, will always be my best day ever. And I plan on having plenty more.