Bipolar and Crises

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I have been susceptible to a lot of different crises in my short lifetime. Growing up with an alcoholic, schizophrenic mother does that to you, I guess. So when it comes to the COVID-19 pandemic, I am not really phased by the matter. I live in Washington state of the United States where Governor Jay Inslee just placed a stay-at-home protection order in place for non-essential employees starting 25 March 2020. The local grocery stores can’t keep toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and tissue in stock and tape covers the front end to represent social distancing and the checkers have face shields for their own protection, but can’t wear their own masks or gloves. I began working in medical records at the beginning of March and we are now forced down to part-time during the pandemic to eliminate foot traffic in our office. Most patients are cancelling their appointments unless it’s emergent, and if that’s the case, they are advised to go directly to the ER anyways.

Considering I haven’t really had the opportunity to self-quarantine, I am starting to get the sense that I should be concerned for my well being from all this contact with the outside world. If anything I am concerned for my parents because they are older and don’t have the strongest immune systems and I live with them so they could easily catch it. I am worried because my mom is so freaked out and the virus is really bringing out her paranoia. I just don’t think I can handle it if she has another mental breakdown or sacrifices her almost four years of sobriety for a fifth of vodka. The last crisis I dealt with was when my boyfriend, before he was my boyfriend, got black out drunk and I searched all over the county for him and I didn’t handle it well at all. How I dealt with my mother and all the times she was blackout drunk, screaming that there was the Mexican mafia underneath our house and didn’t trust technology at all, even the refrigerator, I’m not sure how I dealt with that at age 15 at all. Because if I had to deal with that now, I would not have half the grace and patience that I did then.

Although I am concerned for my family, especially my Alzheimer’s ridden grandmother who is quarantined in a nursing home, I myself have no fear. I have been the face of so many tragedies so my thought process is, “what’s another one?” I am so apathetic to the matter, yet I care so much. I care for those I love who are either elderly or on the front lines like my boyfriend who is a contractor for the Navy and my best friend who works in grocery. But if I die, so be it. Does that mean I have a death wish? I don’t think so. I would rather it be me than someone else. I think that just demonstrates true love rather than just some manic episode of either self-hatred or heroic tendencies. Or maybe it’s a lot bipolar, and a little bit of love, I am not really sure. Either way I die the hero of this story, if that’s how my life is planned to die as.

I thought this writing session would give me more answers than questions, but now I just feel defeated. And detached from the world. I just hope that God eases your minds and hearts during this difficult time because that’s all we can ask.

Til next time,

Dani

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