Patterns of Good and Bad

Now that I don’t eat cheese.

I see tons of commercials for it.

Every style.

Every type.

Pizza commercials are the worst.

It’s torture.

I just get so uncomfortable.

And it’s apparent directly after eating it.

So much so that it’s not worth it.

An hour of cheese leads to a solid week of bloating and constipation.

TMI, I know.

It’s really not a fun time.

I don’t associate eating cheese with feeling good.

And that’s a big step for me.

Food isn’t a cure all.

Food can even be detrimental.

Physically mostly.

But when I get bloated and antsy like I can after eating cheese.

It creeps into my mind like a shitty children’s game.

Where the rules always change.

And I always lose.

I read a writing of mine from about three or four years ago recently.

I talked about how I was ninety nine percent sure of it.

That milk – or cereal, or both, were causing my blockage.

And I should watch it closer.

Because a pattern was emerging.

Three years ago.

Sweet mother of Mary.

Three years and then some it took to sink in.

And if I was writing about it then.

I’m sure there were months if not years of patterns leading up to that point as well.

Dairy equals anguish.

Medications equal less shitty symptoms.

Therapy equals scheduled and repeated relief.

Writing equals less anxiety.

Voices equal hallucinations.

Hmm.

Well, fuck me, right?

These are the patterns I know of.

There are more, sure.

Plenty more.

But theses are the big ones.

Instead of being “good”.

Or “bad”.

Or even all encompassing words like “always”.

Or “never”.

These patterns just are.

Most things in life shouldn’t be labeled “good” or “bad”.

Most things in life just are.

And that’s better than being one extreame.

Or the other.

Take dairy for example.

I love it.

So it’s “bad” that I can’t eat it.

However it’s also “good” for my physical health to not eat it.

So where does that leave me?

Inbetween.

Me deciding to not consume dairy for my physical well being just is.

Here’s another example of this.

I had to be hospitalized for my mental health around this time last year.

I went to the ER with suicidal ideations.

So, I was court ordered to go to the crisis stabilization unit.

For an undetermined amount of time.

Fuck being court ordered.

Fuck them for forcing me to go.

Just, fuck that shit.

But it was also my choice.

I knew I was in a corner.

And I had nowhere else to go.

Because I really wasn’t able to understand what was going on with me.

If I wouldn’t have gone voluntarily.

They would’ve just picked me up anyway.

They track people down.

And take them in.

So, fuck that.

Also, the hospital saved my life.

I’ll forever be grateful for someone telling me that I’m going through psychosis episodes.

Because it’s all made sense since then.

And two things can be true at the same time.

I can hate, haaaaate how the system works here in regards to mandatory hospitalization for mental illnesses.

And I can forever love the people and program that helped me see my illness for what it is.

So I can start to live my life.

So, my hospitalization was another thing that just is.

It’s not “good”.

But it wasn’t “bad”.

This is how I break things down when I can.

I’m trying to see other sides.

And beyond my fingertips.

It’s remaining mindful when I’m able to.

Staying present and looking forward.

Accepting what’s behind and letting it drag behind me when it acts out.

Letting feelings wash over me uninhibited.

I usually start writing.

And stuff like this surfaces.

I’m neither “good”.

Nor “bad” today.

My mood is like this sometimes.

I feel almost disconnected from myself.

That being said.

It’s a fine line.

Between awesome and awful.

Yet it happens to be where most things lay.

Noticing that.

Letting that bounce off of situations where my rage shows.

Helps it derail.

And start to settle.

All of this is leaps and bounds from where I started this journey.

This time last year.

I’m forever grateful for dialectical behavior therapy for the tools too.

That’s when I was first told that there are other ways to counter back.

Not everything is a fight.

Most things aren’t.

– Keren