I am thinking a lot about my head and all that is going on in it.
I first, and most am grateful for my brain and mind! I know, very weird to be so into my head and its workings……I have been trying to normalize my speech and my discussion of my fiery brain and my mind that is morphing, into the mini-mental epicenter of my Universe.
I started my DSYORDER blog and hope to have a more radical place to write about my Pure Mania.
I can’t write without the Pure Mania being part of my persona and part of anything I talk about in relationship to myself.
I am feeling stifled and shut up and off on my blogs as I try to take the Pure Mania out of my persona, but it is an impossible task. I am Corey, I have Pure Mania, and I am very different in the way my brain and body work.
Maybe that is saying enough, it certainly doesn’t cover the realities and examples of my differences, and I don’t know how to write and be authentic without my brain, and its energy over my body being brought up, and woven into my writing. How can I leave out a defining piece of myself in my prose that is written from my soul?
So maybe I write with my Pure Mania, but I regulate it to the basics and not the eccentric and the oddities that comprise the disease that defines me?
I will try to write with a little less of me in my prose and hope that my authenticity is not lost on my writing or on myself. I feel this is all wrong to be honest. I think in reality I got too raw with my Pure Mania and that can certainly be driven back without sacrificing my authenticity and the originality of my writing.
Today I had an amazing conversation with a dear friend, that caught me off guard, and drove me to my knees. It was regarding our children, and trying to be the “perfect parents” to our children. And then the day you have feared in your worst nightmares arrives-You realize from one source or maybe more, that you are NOT the perfect parent, and that in fact, what lays in front of you will make you far from the parent you have spent your life with your child trying to be.
Three years ago in battling anorexia, and being much sicker, I had a psychiatrist tell me to my face that I wasn’t the parent I wanted to be to my Bella, and at that time I couldn’t be the parent I wanted to be. Today the conversation came up and surprised me, and in sharing my story I was instantly driven to tears from the pain and anguish of that time in my life three years ago. Yes the tears, and heartache were right there instantly, as I recanted the story and the feelings of dying, of failure, of desperation, of not wanting to let my little girl down.
There were no guarantees given to me that she would be okay. But this weekend, Grace, as I know it was experienced by my daughter and I together. The details are not all that important-we were able to go work at the local Clinton campaign office and because of my National affiliation she at 13, was able to sit beside me and call prospective voters to see if they would be voting for HRC. It was something she has begged me to do, but I knew she wasn’t old enough and we weren’t signed up. By the grace of God, we showed up, and after introducing her as my daughter, the local staff let Bella experience her dream come true of working on HRC’s campaign. I sat at the table with her, gave her instructions, and she and I made phone calls both Saturday and Sunday, blissfully as mommy and daughter, three years after being told I couldn’t be the parent I wanted to be.
As I told my friend, our children love us unconditionally the way we love them. Bella still worries about my health, but we ate, and we were involved together in a cause that means something very much to the two of us. I told my friend who is coming to terms with her imperfections, and the impending conversation she might have to have with her child, and I felt immediately leveled by my own story and situation. The tears quickly dried up with the story of this weekend and so many other things that I have returned to being for my daughter.
My friend doesn’t have hope right now, and nothing is as enormous, and empty and stark as hopelessness. I have no magic words for my friend, only words of a tomorrow at some point where she too will share a moment of bliss once again with her child.
Oh how I wish I could take her pain away and make things all better for her and her beloved child. However, I am a mortal and I am without the proper equipment to change her path and her journey that she must traverse. I could guarantee her that her child will once again love her unconditionally. That much I know is true of good parents and amazing children.
So this was a post that was supposed to be about me and my Pure Mania, and instead it is about the human condition in all of us, and the pain guaranteed in this world, no matter how much we do to avoid it. I didn’t neeed to mention my pure Mania, and in fact during that heart-breaking conversation, my fire in my brain quelled, my body slowed down, and my heart and my soul grew to envelope her and her pain. Life is so filled with pain and joy, and you can’t experience one without the other. I know I didn’t help solve anything my friend is facing, but I gave her what I had to offer, ME. Flawed, damaged, risen from the ashes, and now enjoying a rest inbetween the pain and sorrow that life will bring to me.
I am so grateful to my friend, I should be at the campaign, but she needs me as sleep eludes her, and I vow to myself not to leave her before the peace she so desperately seeks cradles her fragile being. Sleep is not her answer, and her answers may cause greater pain than today, but a respite of sleep for her broken heart and beautiful soul and person are in order. As she settles sown I list through the phone, and I here the ebbing of her pain momentarily as she finally soothes herself with the darkness of night and the solace of the quieting of her mind.
Tomorrow she will have to deal with this more, and come to resolutions she may not like, or that don’t seem acceptable to her. Tomorrow is a new day, as she finally yawns and gives in to the momentary peace that sleep will provide, I will eventually make my way to the campaign, knowing my dearest friend is asleep for at least enough time for me to work at the local campaign, before coming home and working the national campaign.
Sleep is coming to her, my heart is heavy yet light. We all traverse through this world at different trajectories and different times and places. I realize with myself, I am coming out of the darkness, the pain, and the angst, and joy, love, and light are right in front of me. My dear friend reminded me of where I was three years ago, and although I wish it wasn’t because of her current life’s circumstances, I am so grateful for the warmth, and the totality of being, I have waited three long years to experience.
I believe her sleep is very near, as her restlessness settles down, and the hard breathing of her heaviness of heart and soul are overcome with the lightness brought on by sleep. She isn’t fully asleep, and seems to be fighting it, I believe in fear of waking up tomorrow with a mountain planted right in front of her. We aren’t talking, I listen to her as I quietly type on my keyboard. Yet she knows through the phone and the various sounds of my house and noisy pug, I am HERE and I will not leave her. I was granted this gift at one point in my life and never thought I could repay it. Well here I am, I am in the bunker with my dear friend, who mentioned SHE might be too much for me, and I gave her my WORD, she is not too much and I give her what I have to offer; ME.
BORN THIS WAY-2016