Dots and Dashes

Today was a bit of a challenge. I was cranky, irritable, and depressed. All for no good reason. No reason at all. I don't know what it is, what made me feel like this today. I had no real motivation. Not to do anything except for paint or sleep or workout - the only three things I seem to be capable of doing any more. Which truly makes me feel horrible. I should be cleaning the house. Putting away laundry. Doing something useful with my time. But I don't. I workout, I shower, I paint. I try not to nap. But oh how I want to nap. Especially when I feel like this.

I also feel bad, I know, because I've had several bad eating days this week. I feel guilty. I feel fat, despite my 23 pound weight loss. I feel as though I'll gain all the weight back overnight because I had a few bad days.

Maybe these things are contributing to my mood today. I don't know. I was near tears most of the day. Tonight, I started getting giddy and laughing at nothing - crazy manical laughing - and I think it came out instead of me crying. Like my body was looking for an alternative release of emotion because we're both so sick of the other route. I just really hate this.

Anyway, here's one of my latest paintings, "Dots and Dashes"

Inspired by the lyrics in a song by Silversun Pickups:
See you in the room next door
Your feet float above the floor
Dress torn above your knees
Like you've owned it for centuries

Dots and dashes on the wall
You tell me about the falls
Of kingdoms and champions
You've seen a thousand times before

The painting is slightly about suicide, as I have suicidal ideation more often than I like to admit. But it's also a statement about bipolar disorder. You see, bipolar disorder often controls you, dictates your actions, your feelings, your thoughts. It has a way of molding you its every whim or desire. You become like some macabre marionette, dancing around with no will of your own.

Those dots and dashes on the walls? They're actually Morse code. They spell out "help me" over and over again. Pleading for someone to stop the control and power that bipolar disorder has over me. Lest the unthinkable happen.

Don't worry - I'm not suicidal. Thoughts from time to time, but not actively suicidal (yes, there's a difference). But this . . .this is how I feel. Like I'm being controlled. Like I have no say in what I do or how I think or how I feel. Not all the time - but enough for it to be bothersome. Enough for it to affect me. Enough for me to plead and reach out for help.

Tomorrow is another day. Maybe it will be better. Maybe I can cut some of those strings controlling me.