Leaving on good terms, but loosing an identity 

A story of friendships and divorce:

This is a story about a once fun, outgoing girl who volunteered, gave her heart to a community she was a part of for 20+ years and divorce. Those she loved passed judgement without question when the word divorce reached their ears. Slowly friends felt they had to pick sides and stopped any interaction. Many made assumptions, some went as far as to look away and pretend not to see her. “How could she divorce him?” “He was a great guy, great father, never wavered, and supported her in everyway”. He had been with her since she was a teenager, “How could she leave a good man?” Her reasons were Her own, but being happy and healing wasn’t going to happen in Her marriage. They were and will always be best friend. The problem can quickly as news slowly spread, his life was his community and had become her community, she knew nothing else. 

She asked the same thing about the community she loved, why? Why had she become a outsider? It was a harsh reality. She wondered why the community she loved abandoned her.

The couple had chosen not to make a spectacle of a wonderful 20 year marriage. No vaguebooking, no fighting, simply be happy. They simply moved on and agreed to support each other. They had wanted each other happy. They wanted their children happy. Was it her Mental illness causing delusions? Was it her severe depression? Was it the deployment that came months after the legal preparations? Was it new friendships she had made since the separation? Soon people asked, the slow de-friending on social accounts. She simply wasn’t in the community anymore. She was left feeling abandoned, lost, and found herself in the shoes of those she’d helped throughout the years. 

Those she had forgotten as well.

So thats becoming my story. Divorce isn’t a easy decision. I find myself lost in my sickness. Struggle to live, work and stay active supporting my community. I struggle to not cry everyday. My life is a struggle. I am thankful to those who continue to reach out, those who love me even in my madness, those who are still my friends. 

To everyone else, you don’t know our story. Remember both of us involved. Remember our friendships. I’m Bipolar, it’s not contagious. It’s a debilitating depression with ups and downs. If you loved my ups, please love me when I’m down.
 

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Looking for definitions 

“Lennie hesitated, backed away, looked wildly at the brush line as though he contemplated running for his freedom. George said coldly, “You gonna give me that mouse or do I have to sock you?”
“Give you what, George?”

“You know God damn well what. I want that mouse.”

Lennie reluctantly reached into his pocket. His voice broke a little. “I don’t know why I can’t keep it. It ain’t nobody’s mouse. I didn’t steal it. I found it lyin’ right beside the road.”

George’s hand remained outstretched imperiously. Slowly, like a terrier who doesn’t want to bring a ball to its master, Lennie approached, drew back, approached again. George snapped his fingers sharply, and at the sound Lennie laid the mouse in his hand.”

~ John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men

Maybe I just don’t know how to say, “I’m sorry” it’s something I probably never learned and possibly why I over compensate in other areas and can’t fully explain my mental illness. When the mania is over and the depression starts to slithers its way into all the wounds where most people would receive light, it feels like your world is empty. Each wound is slowly filled with someone’s anger, someone’s hurt, someone’s disbelief. Those wounds sealed with darkness. 
My extreme mania, so lucid. An experiment with medication, euphoria, psychosis, and the ability to do anything. Now, I find myself sealing wounds with darkness. Take away all the sickness, I’ve lost my closest friends. I trusted people who betrayed me, because I inadvertently betrayed them, endless cycle of the bipolar mind. You trust and love people and learn instead of helping they run, opening wounds. Others, stay building an invisible net catching me as I fall into darkness.
Now, in depression my mind can only remember the good and can’t think of how I ever hurt a soul. I’m reminded daily, but my mind is a blender on high. I gave until i couldn’t give anymore. Understanding, any hurt isn’t even comprehensible and only brings tears. Looking at the faces of my children when I returned home from the hospital reminded me where my priorities should’ve been and suicide was not the answer. Getting proper medication was important, everything else wasn’t important. Until you have experienced the bipolar mind it’s important to remember it’s all real, it’s amazing and deadly.
Each time like Lennie, from the quote above, he would pet them too hard often killing them. I love too deeply, I love too hard. I give my soul to causes, to people, to everything and disregard the people who truly love me…breaking them in the end. If you read the Steinbeck story, I’m not only Lennie, I’m George…I’m constantly protecting (him) myself and I want my story to end with us as one person again. 
“”For the rabbits,” Lennie shouted.

“For the rabbits,” George repeated.

“And I get to tend the rabbits.”

“An’ you get to tend the rabbits.”

Lennie giggled with happiness. “An’ live on the fatta the lan’.”

“Yes.”

Lennie turned his head.

“No, Lennie. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place.”

Lennie obeyed him. George looked down at the gun.””

 ~ John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men

I am my own story, I am my beginning, my climax, and my end. I just want to write happy endings for everyone. Sadly, in this world everyone can’t have happy endings, but I can survive my story. Tonight, I listen to my little guy who is seven play football in the house. I do not stop him, I hug him. I listen to my crazy cat break ornaments on the Christmas tree, I hug her a little harder. The dog constantly scratches next to me, I stay calm and hug her a little swiftly with my foot.
I’m happy I am alive.

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