Bipolar

To my knowledge, I am not actually bipolar.  But I once had a friend who was and, based on his description, this past week has given me the tiniest taste of what it might be like.

I decided last week that I'm going to Sweden.  I have friends who currently live there and invite me out to visit every time we talk.  It was time to take them up on the offer and get out of town for a bit.  The idea bounced around in my head for a week or two when a sudden, firm decision was made on Friday.  By that evening, I had flights picked out.  By the following Tuesday, I got the needed dates off work and had tickets.  My first flight is in less than two weeks.  A little spur of the moment, but I am soooooooo excited.

My days are interspersed with euphoria as the trip is planned.  After booking the flights, I was too giddy to even sit down for nearly an hour.  Friends ask me if I'm doing anything fun this summer and energy pours out of me as I explain the road trip to Kiruna to see the sun at midnight and the drive along the coast of Norway as we take the long way home.

In addition to going to Sweden, my family came out to visit last week.  Many of them were unable to cancel plane tickets intended for a wedding, so we had a sudo-family reunion.  The week was filled with zip-lining, caves, soap making, and way too much ice-cream.

But all the energy, all the joy and euphoria, couldn't make me forget what was supposed to happen this week but didn't.  I'd ride the waves when they came and then crash into a rocky coast line as I remembered that I could have been on my honeymoon instead of writing this.  I might have been at my reception instead of in an escape room.  I oscillate between the moment and the 'could-have-been'.  Honestly, I feel a little torn apart by the extremes.

I know God blessed me with reasons to be happy this week because He knew the sorrow that could not be avoided.  I am grateful for it...most of the time.  But I also empathize with River, from the TV show Firefly, as she describes her recovery to her brother: "The sun came out, and I walked on my feet and heard with my ears.  I ate the bits, the bits that stay down and I work.  I function like I'm a girl.  I hate it because I know it'll go away! The sun grows dark and chaos has come again.  It's...fluids.  What am I?"

That question comes back to haunt me.  What am I?  Sometimes I know and the knowledge is so firm and I feel so strong and I believe I'm recovering.  Then the knowledge fades like the sun behind clouds.  I lose my footing and the scars reopen.  I wish I saw the sun as often as I pretend I do.

But I'm going to Sweden! And I'll be able to see the sun all night long.