I'm trying something new.
I have this great fear of making it public because of the connotation that comes with the words and because I don't want to fail, but needless to say my grocery list has changed in an extreme way and so has my time in the tiny-kitchen.

Now, if I'm not working, planning weddings, looking for houses for sale, feeding a baby, nurturing my relationship or washing my hair, I'm blending, baking, saute-ing one pan at a time (so I don't trip the kitchen circuit).

I went with Colt to his therapist appointment this morning and learned a lot in an hour about bi-polar disorder and it's slick fingers. 

Choosing a life with someone with bi-polar disorder who has chosen (with the support and encouragement of his therapist) to be without medication has definitely been eye opening for a girl who believes that we are creators of our own reality.  I've had to humble myself to the disorder and accept that I have been gifted with the facility to approach the world with a full clear view and coping skills in tact, and that not everyone is playing from the same deck.

Because Colt is so clear and objective on a daily basis, it's been hard for me to handle when he has lows or sudden obsessions or outbursts.  They come into play so rarely, but lately have jostled us during big decisions like buying a house or handling health issues.  I don't always see how much he works to consider me because it doesn't appear in empathy or sympathy, the way I would show consideration- it appears logically which feels farther removed... until you hear someone like a therapist say that, for him, any kind of consideration takes more work than I can fathom.

I am not perfect at recognizing this.
I am hard-headed about certain things.
I believe psychosis is in us all.

Flash back to the paper factory in '07 when I tried to tell a group of black guys that argued they didn't have the same innate opportunities as a white middle class male that they couldn't possibly understand the struggle of a white middle class male.
That was ignorant of me, but at the time I believed that the key to overpowering racism is in understanding that all humans have it hard.

Here I am in '13 engaged to someone who has it harder than me.
Who can't always breathe through pain or throw away small details or attitude-adjust that sad face or sometimes can't sleep for nights in a row.  I have to overcome the same ignorance.

We are all fighting battles, but they aren't all the same kind of hard.
We don't all come with the same kind of guns. 

Is this the sign of a good therapist or what?


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