Night time, when the stimuli of the day has settled into a gentle slumber and the company has retreated, the kids are in bed and all is quiet except the incessant chattering of your relentless mind.
I love the night, the fresh, crisp feel of the air. There is absolutely nothing I love more than standing outside at night and just taking a deep breath, it awakens the soul; it feels like freedom, pure pleasure. I love the atmosphere of the night, the quiet stillness, I love the stars and the perspective that gazing at them can bring when all hope seems lost.
I am nothing if not a romantic.
There is also a loneliness about the night that my brain strains to fill, endless one-way conversations, arguments and debates circling around and around my mind. I am an obsessive analyser, there is not one event in my day that I will not mentally strip search whilst on my paranoid quest, I analyse every conversation I have had in that day, the ways in which people (both significant and otherwise) have looked at me, the conversations I should/could have had, the potential scenarios of the next day/week/month; the longer my analysis continues the higher my anxiety soars, it is agonising and exhausting.
At one time I didn’t have anyone that I could talk to about my Bipolar disorder or the strange and often frightening symptoms that come with it but now there are so many people around me that I could reach out to and talk things through with (as I often do) still, night-time is the one time that I am completely alone with my insecurities, paranoia and anxiety. I miss the company, I miss the warmth of another body next to mine, I miss the gentle caress of someone who cares that I cannot sleep because my brain won’t let me. I want to be told that it’s all going to be alright by someone who will always be there whether it is alright or not, not just whilst the sun is in the sky, but always. I miss all that I have never had and more.
I am afraid of intimacy. I fear that due to the every changing nature of my illness I will never have the ability to maintain a relationship and that if I do manage by some small miracle to maintain a relationship, I will end up making that other person miserable or dragging them into the crazy pool with me. Can I have Bipolar disorder and be loved? Do I have the ability to make someone else happy? Why would anyone knowingly take on such a burden?
I have only ever wanted to be loved, as a child, teenager and now as a woman; it is all I felt I never had and all I have ever strived to achieve. I just want to be good enough to be loved. I now know that I have been loved by many people, but I never truly believed that they loved me until I learnt to love myself. I am more loved now than I have ever been in my life, I am surrounded by an overwhelming amount of love and compassion and it fills me with joy and a deep sense of self-worth. I know I can survive without a relationship to balance upon, I know my worth, I know that I don’t need a relationship to feel whole but still, the sparkling stars send an ache to my lonely heart.