The pull and release of emotion is all too familiar. I suppose I've had a good go of it, it's been a few weeks after all. Eventually the insomnia associated with my bipolar highs catches up with me and the world begins to dim. Colors less vibrant, edges less crisp, happiness more subdued and anger and depression more easily accessible. My low is coming.
I never know just how long they will last. I can attempt a guess based on the last cycle, but there's no true tell. I do know my triggers, and avoid them for now. My divorce is one. You'd be surprised at both how much and how little that comes up. It comes up and matters less than you think it will when it's fresh, yet comes up more often than you'd think once it's been a while and you think you're over it. I'm basically over it, I'm just sad when I see young twenty-somethings in healthy marriages, celebrating their 5th year of marriage with their high school sweetheart. I wanted that to be me.
As odd as it might sound, a road trip is the best time for me to hit a low. As much anxiety as I can sometimes get just preparing myself to go to the grocery store, somehow, road trips make me just as equally calm and happy. Driving along the highway gives me so much peace, exploring new places, taking in the scenery, falling in love with places I never would have imagined to be half as entrancing as they are. For me, it is Missouri.
Missouri is the state I least expected to fall in love with, but as love stories go, it was head-over-heels love at first sight. The rolling hills and mountains with their hidden caverns and cliffs, covered in trees and bushes and appearing in a time all their own. It's breathtaking. I'm glad I'm hitting my low now, if you can ever be glad to hit a low, because of just how much tranquility and joy well up in my heart and, no matter how difficult it may seem, begin to curl a smile across my lips.
I am in love.
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