My Mania

I don't usuwally post on Saturday becauseI have to go to work.  I realized yesterday that that mania, russhing pst myself feeling was r3earing it's ugly head again.  I have to write this now because if I don't, I will forget the subject and then have to struggle later on to find something else to write again.  Anyway...I'm on this writer path and the weird thing is that my anxiety level was so high yesterday that I could barely get anything done.  I wrote my morning pages and everything but something was niggling at my conscience, and I didn't know what it was.  Anyhow, I realize now, that I did not want to face key issues in my life, like the fact that I don't like my job.

I was at a 12 step meeting the other day and someone said? Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone that you love is walk away.  That has echoed in my head.  I stay on my job not because I love the people there but because they annoy me.  They are annoyed by me.  I don't dress well, I'm smart and I suspect that being african american on this job is an anomaly (I could write a book about it but I won't, maybe someday I will post about being african american in a country that is deliberately racist and works hard to convince everyone that they are not--there, I said it. It's taken me a long time to come out of denial myself but that's another post.  And just because someone hates me for my skin color, doesn't mean I have to hate myself.. or them for that matter.  So I choose love.  I choose to walk away for loves sake. Don't know when, don't know how but God has worked other miracles in my life, I'm countin on Him for this one).


Anyway, I realize that that tension was a resistance to facing the truth.  A denial so profound that it's like playing tug of war with myself.  It is harder and harder for me to lie to myself. That in an of itself is a miracle.
I love to write...Man! Do I love to write.

Anyway, on e of the most apparent symptoms of falling inot the rabbit hole and touring wonderland for me is that racing feeling.  It is so hard to honor myself and my feelings, I begin to numb out...people pleasing and addictions kick in and Melody...the real one, is dead.  It's just awful.  I don't want to go outside, see anybody and when I do talk to anyone, I'm spilling my guts.  It's like everyone becomes a priest and confession time is here.  It's weird, I'm conscious, but not cognizant.  I'm confused and desparate...trying to get away from me.  It's a weird way of exisiting in the world and so I try to be still....This mania is like having a gazillion leeches on you and running to try to get them off, the more you thrash, the tighter they kling and in order for them to come off you have to be still.  When you are still...the discomfort is still there but it enables you to find a method of getting the blood suckers off you.  You are able to think if you stop panicking.

In my mind, mania is a type of subconsicous panic.