Is this just biochemistry?

I woke up today feeling quite low. I suppose this is one of the things I can't help. It's biochemistry in my brain. Sometimes I accept it as so. Some days I feel helpless. Then I go out, and watch people, stare at the stars, find beauty in the smallest of things and places. Sometimes, even the darkest alleys speak out to you.

The capacity and capability to love has always landed me in places that hurt me. But when I think about it, it's probably time. It's probably a sign. If no stars appear in my horizon, it's time to make a move. It's time to care for myself. It's finally time.

It's finally time to do what I want to do, without having to think of someone else.

I have no qualms thinking of someone else every step of the way, if the other person thinks of me too. But like I wrote a while back, if I spend time thinking about other people and they don't think about me, I end up hurting, and they end up happy. And life's not fair, but that's it. So I should better be going on life, moving on.

It's probably time to move on. From everything. And everyone. Of course, there are those I hold dear. I wish they knew how much they mean to me, and I really hope I mean to them as much as they mean to me. But loving someone doesn't make someone love you.

So move on.

It's going to take me some time. Some struggling and grappling with reality, and these waves of uncertainty. But I think soon enough I will be on my way to something better.

I said I don't ever want to be jaded. But maybe, just maybe, love doesn't heal. Time doesn't heal. The only thing that heals is picking up the pieces and moving on.

Or maybe we're all just broken puppets.

Overwhelmed

Why does the world overwhelm me so? I feel like I can't exist here. It gets too much sometimes. I'm not sure if anyone sees me for who I am, or who I can be. But what can you do when your good isn't good enough?

I told a friend that I feel it should be a balance, that we should sometimes overwhelm the world with our existence. In a good way, I hope. And earlier today, I was saying that I've made a lot of mistakes, but I've had a lot of fun, and if I keep hitting walls I'll just keep hitting them until I break down the wall or find an opening.

The truth is, I've found a lot of pain too. But every now and then, you wonder if anyone around you looks at you and thinks "this one's a fighter". Because I don't know if anyone knows how much of a fight I have to put up to simply exist in this world, sometimes.

And if you want an update on my love life, I just want to say these three words: What's going on?

But then again, I'm not sure. I mean, I thought to myself a few days ago. The fact that I know how to hurt and how to feel pain may not necessarily mean it's a bad thing. The ability to feel makes us human. It also means I am not jaded. Which I am glad for. I can still feel. I can still love.

And that's the thing about love. I get tired of giving, not knowing if my love means anything to the people I give it to. But maybe no one loses when it comes to love. Because, as a friend puts it, I know what love is. I actually know what it feels like. I actually know what it can do to you - the good and the bad. And not a lot of people know that. Or not a lot of people care to acknowledge that.

But the truth is, it's 6am and I'm too tired. I think this conversation needs a better time friend. Like 4am. Because 4am knows all my secrets.

More than sticks and stones

Sometimes I just want to know if there's anyone out there who feels the way I do. I know it's normal to face ups and downs, but why do I feel like flinging myself out the open window almost every day? Why do I have this innate need to imagine ending my life in one way or another, and I struggle and battle with it almost every day?

Sometimes that innate need gets so strong I literally harm myself. Although I have been able to restrain myself from doing much harm to myself in a while. In a long while. Which hasn't been easy.

Sometimes I wonder if I just allow myself to take away this self-harming ban I imposed on myself, would it make it easier to go on? Maybe the pain would distract me somehow from the pain I feel inside.

But that's just living a lie.

I'm tired of this struggle. I'm tired of waking up alone and lonely, and knowing that if I disappeared, no one would really care, and that I'd probably have done something better for the world. Sounds like a bout of self-pity, perhaps. But it's just so true. Why do I have to exist to bring negativity around this world? "You always bring people down," an ex used to say angrily. I can't help but hear those words ringing every time I feel down.

So I do what I do best. I stay away from people. And when I do interact with anyone, I throw all my worries away, pack them neatly in a box, and open them again when I am alone. For the truth is, I am a loner. Nobody knows who I am really, and nobody can accept me for who I really am.

I actually wish that there were more people who know me, who loves me, who wants me around. But it's not about quantity, they say, it's about quality. It's true, I have people around me, and I am deeply appreciative of that. I just wish people knew how much they meant to me, and I wish I was as important to them as they were to me. Because it's just as easy leaving me hanging, than to actually take the time to bother.

I shouldn't be surprised. People who claimed to love me more than anything in the world couldn't handle me. Rather than comforting me, they'd rather watch me climb over balconies as I battle internally about whether to jump. When all I need is just to hear you say "Don't." Apparently I don't mean enough to anyone for someone to say "Don't jump. I love you."

Instead, it was easier for them to just walk away, and scoff angrily and say "Do whatever you want to do." What was that? Child treatment? Someone with a mental illness is like a child? So use reverse psychology?

DOES NO ONE REALISE THE LONG TERM DAMAGE IT HAS ON THAT PERSON?

SO TITANIC IS ONE BIG BULLSHIT OF A MOVIE. "You jump, I jump." That is just creation of fiction to make people believe in this thing called love when in reality it doesn't exist.

Love doesn't exist. Maybe it does, for other people. I just don't deserve love.

I think back of all the stupid things I've done for love and I can't help but wonder why I cared. WHY. Men love bitches, they say. They even wrote a book about it. I just need to learn my lesson.

Or not.

I don't know.

All I know right now is that some days, I don't want to belong to the world. I just want to belong to someone. I want to spend rainy days just holding hands, and laughing in bed. I want to love someone with all my heart and for once, have that person love me back with all his heart.

I give up.

Maybe I'm just upset because I realised I was never really loved. By anyone. They say words can't harm you, but you have no idea.

"I'm always so proud of you, but why are you never proud of me?"
"Why should I be proud of you? You've done nothing."

I've been told I was nothing. I was worth nothing.

Now tell me, how do I go on? Where do I find strength and somehow forget these words, and be okay?

:(

With the hope that writing will somehow help me get through this "festive" season, I will attempt to pen down how I feel. This is turning out to be harder than I thought it would be. My emotions are all over the place, and as I'm typing this right now, the only thing I could do is to hide in my room and cry buckets while I write, reflect and try to understand the things happening around me and within me.

In other words, I am falling apart, but I am trying so damn hard to not show.

Not so that I would fake emotions; I am trying to be as genuine as I can with how I feel, but because I really do not want to bring anyone else down with me. So a smile is the best I can do. And distractions help. Like when you're swamped with so many conversations and people and relatives, and you quietly slip off to play with your uncle's dog.

Anyway, I think I'll be able to make it through, somehow. We find strength within ourselves when we need it most, even when we think there's no way we can make it. One of beauties of life, I believe.

Although, I must say that it isn't easy, this hiding in my room thing, because I share a room with my mum when she's down here, and every fifteen minutes or so, she steps in to get something, or to say something, and I'm tired. And it's so hard to not let show how I really feel.

It's my first Lunar New Year "alone", i.e. single, in a while. I really wanted to avoid using that word, not because I care about being single, but because I came from a relationship status that brought along promise, not only to me, but to my entire family. I recall my late grandpa, two Chinese New Years ago, gave his blessing to my ex, calling him his future "son-in-law". Maybe there's no reason for me to feel this way, because maybe my family completely understands every screw up I've ever had, but it does feel horrible to know that I screw up time and time again.

It sucks to know that I'm the only one in the family with no proper job, with bipolar disorder, with nothing they could be proud of. It feels like every single public interaction I have with my family, I am tempted to make a public statement of apology.

In other words, my self-esteem is at zero right now. Anxiety is at a level high. And I don't know how to go on.

I miss the good old days. I miss those days when I was still studying, or was still capable of working. Those days when they thought I had a future. Those days when I still took the bus home, or drove 3 hours back to my hometown for Chinese New Year.

But maybe home is where the heart is. But why does it feel so out of beat, out of sync, out of tune? I feel like when I play music in my car, my mum reacts to my choice of music in a way I can't explain. She would sigh a lot, sometimes yawn, I feel judged. And maybe that's also the problem. Right now I feel like I can't be "me" around my family, and it's hardening me inside.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what I needed anyway. Some "hardening" of the heart. Pretending that I'm okay UNTIL I really AM okay, if there's really such a thing. Jadedness.

I don't know what it'll be like if anyone read this, and thought that I was being ungrateful towards my family, because I have no such intention at all. They are great people, and they love me, of course they do.

Maybe I'm just whining for nothing. I should just keep quiet, shut up, stop crying in my room, face the truth, face the facts. Face reality.

Grow up.

New balance

There's no pattern to this, so it's hard for me to know when I'd be hit with a downswing. Or a manic attack. There were a few triggers that led me to feel down for a while.

I somehow feel like I can't be saved.

I know the facts, and that doesn't hinder me from living life. It's incurable, and I know it. But people live with it, and some people live very productive lives. Some 90% of marriages or relationships with a bipolar person end in divorce or separation. So it's easy to point blame. We're the crazy ones. We're the ones who are unstable, not of sound of mind, unable to make decisions.

The existence of the World Wide Web is making me feel like I don't belong even more. I look at tweets and status updates, and I look at latest news and research developments, and I wonder where my place is in this world. I feel like if I dropped out, if I checked out, it would actually be alright. Nothing would feel wrong. Balance would probably be restored. And that's even giving myself some credit. What makes me think I even matter? I don't. So let's just say that nothing would happen if I were gone.

And that comforts me a little.

It's pretty easy to brush it off, sometimes. It's not like I'm not genuine in feeling these feelings. I am. Completely. I just don't know how to deal with things, with people, with myself. There's great paranoia that accompanies this illness. You are afraid of everything - and then you brush your fears aside and you don't know what's right.

I'm so tired. I don't like the feeling of feeling victimised. I am not a victim. I just happen to have been blessed or cursed with this, depending on how you view it. And those words keep ringing in your ears, making you feel inadequate. Making you feel strange and all those words that do not describe a normal, loveable woman.

For I am not a loveable woman. I don't turn heads. I don't make hearts race. I don't give them sweaty palms.

All I do is make them more confused about life, because I can't figure out what the meaning of life is. No wonder my past lovers were so eager and keen to let me go. They craved normalcy. One even said that, affirmed that. Out loud. To me. To my ears.

They bled.

Sure, people hate negativity. Who doesn't? Don't bring me down, they sang. I listened. So what can I do but to pretend? That every time a tear comes so near, I lie through gritted teeth and make believe. I create my own world, and I go into it every time things turn ugly. I make believe that I could be happy. That I belong. That it is possible for someone like me to be appreciated. To be loved.

And I try my best to ignore that inner voice that whispers "bullshit".

I just didn't think that I would fall into a depressed mood so early in the year. It's funny, though, really. You see the beauty of everything when you're high in the clouds, and you see the beauty of everything when you're down, right down in your dungeon of pain. It's like the raindrops suddenly hurt you, and yet you want them to. Because feeling something, is better than feeling nothing.

Maybe, medically speaking, logically speaking, I just need a medication adjustment.

Happiness, hit her like a train on a track

To be honest, it was difficult coming up with a blog dedicated to my lack of a love life. Not that I have one right now, but maybe because that's not all that builds me. I don't know, I guess every now and then I'm allowed to deviate from this, despite the big title up above, you know.

But in keeping with the theme, I do have something to say. It's been quiet lately in this department, but I am having the time of my life. A thought came to me yesterday. I thought that I was at the peak of my youth. And then I disputed myself, because I realised I felt this same way at a point in 2008. And both times there was a similarity - I was single.

And then I traced my memory back to 2004. A complicated time. Single? No? I didn't care.

Maybe it was the not caring that made me happy. Because I am used to being so organic in my thinking; that every single thought that crosses my mind needed deep analysis or else it would be a waste and that would, in return, bother me to the deepest, greatest level. So every once in a while, when I let go and just be, I can find myself being dragged into this open space where nothing but good juju vibes float with you.

Of course, there is also the possibility that I could be hypomanic. But if I had to track down every single emotion and pin it down as an episode, then I might as well pull out a big chart to draw out the mood swings of my life.

So let's keep it as a completely non-medical situation. At least for now. At least until I get pulled higher into this uncontrollable energetic burst of either high agitation or eagerness, or when racing thoughts come speeding through my mind at the speed of a bullet train, or when I start believing in Santa again. So, at least for now, I am logical. I am sane.

And happy.

It's funny how I think my days are numbered when I'm happy. It's like I feel as if I should be punished for feeling this way. It's self-destructive. So I let go. I think I'm not letting go of love. I don't think I will ever be able to let go of love. I am one who knows that no matter how many times or how deeply I get hurt, I always find the capacity to love. And you find love in the strangest places. In the quirkiest of bookstores. In the dingiest of motels. That, too, is a debatable question. But I truly believe love exists everywhere. So I will never let go of love.

What I'm letting go of, is the notion that I might meet someone. It's difficult meeting someone who will accept me for all that I am. People don't find me attractive, but that's okay. I'll live.

It's just that, once in a while, I wish I had strong arms to envelop me. I wish I had beautiful eyes to stare at. I wish I had, well, love. In that way.

Yeah.

In Making Decisions

You can't be saved from tunes of the past if you keep listening to broken records.

That just totally came out of the blue, but something like that has been stuck in my mind for a very long time now.

I got very exhausted. From overthinking. Or overfeeling. Either way, I wasn't winning. I saw signs of a mixed episode - and started to worry, and then remembered that worrying was what kept me in that state for five weeks, and I started to find coping mechanisms. I was exhausted and I wanted to sleep all the time. And yet, at the same time, I was highly agitated, and restless. Like I wanted to go out instead of facing these four walls and a ceiling. Or like I wanted to get a job. Whoa. I caught myself in time. That eagerness to get a job is not necessarily a bad thing at all, but the recklessness involved in it, is. That lands a person in bad decisions and choices.

Which was also why I took some time in making a decision/choice today. And I finally made the choice, after careful consideration. But of course, I believe your heart needs to be involved in deciding things like these too. Or anything, for that matter.

But it was the indecision that made me wonder. I always thought that it was a Libran thing - that we scales need to be constantly balanced and can't be tipped either way, so we can't make a decision that weighs heavier on one end. In all honesty, I still believe it's a Libran thing. That Librans find it harder to make decisions.

But I also read that indecision is a main cause of stagnancy. When you decide NOT to decide, that in itself is a decision. And that hinders you from moving to a lot of places (or anywhere at all, for that matter) because you tend to get stuck. So sleeping on it might be a good idea, but not forever. The universe does tend to unfold but it does so on your behalf. I believe in listening to your instincts and trusting what the universe is telling you to do. That doesn't mean I've only made "right" decisions all my life. This year, for example, I have made decisions which have led me down the path I've never taken in my life before, and I sometimes wonder if they are worth it. But only time can tell if the decision(s) is/are worth it (I'd rather say this than "right") in the end. Like in deciding whether a relationship is worth saving. One can never be too sure. But we make the best out of everything we decide on, don't we?

So I suppose I know why I have yet to meet the right person. There are a bountiful of men out there - and some make the cut; they fit right into what I look for. Maybe. I don't know that for sure, but one can always hope. But maybe the universe has yet to allow me to meet them, because in some twisted cosmic way that makes so much sense, it wants me to be able to sort my indecision problem out first before I'm allowed to meet them. What is the point of meeting them, if I can't make decisions based on what I see or feel or want or need? And it doesn't necessarily even mean it has to be a handful of men. It could be just one guy, but if I can't decide on whether he's the right one, then my indecision or rather, inability to make decisions and choices, would hinder me from making the decision that would be "worthy".

Besides, making a decision with a broken heart is not exactly the best thing. You tend to get a clouded judgement. It either ends great or it ends horribly bad. You can meet someone, have great chemistry, and somehow believe that he/she is the one because you've had strings of broken relationships. You'd probably hop right into bed, and it would be incredible that you'd believe he/she was meant to be the one. And that could end either way, too. OR you could be completely shut off from accepting someone into your heart because of a heartbreak. You might think (or trick yourself to believe) that you want to be with someone, but it could just be the heartbreak speaking. It could be the heartbreak telling you that the person is the one, when actually it's loneliness, and despair.

So I'm healing. And I'm healing well, actually. Sure, I have my ups and downs, but going through the motion is good. Someone said that it's better to mourn over something over a period of time, rather than just getting over it. And I completely agree. About 7 years ago, something rather traumatic happened to me and I chose to get over it very quickly. That was how I got haunted by it years down the road. It's like getting a new piercing. It takes some time to heal, and sometimes you think it has already healed but it hasn't, and you meddle with it, and that attracts trouble and germs. So, lay off that finger, stop touching that itch, let it be, and soon enough, you'll see that it's worth it in the end.

Besides, with piercings, the pain is doubled or tripled when you use a needle instead of the gun. But the risks with the gun are simply not worth it. So, I guess you can say that, with a heartbreak, we tend to choose the less painful solution, but the risks are far more dangerous.

That's not to say we shouldn't take risks. I shouldn't have used that piercing analogy anyway. I mean, life is too short to not take risks. I have been a risk taker all my life, and although I have stumbled many times (a little too many than I'd like to take into account sometimes), I have lived.

So, life's too short. Eat a cupcake.

Identity

I have come to realise that a lot of my posts will begin or contain the phrase "I have come to realise". Now isn't that a little amusing?

So... I have come to realise that one of the things that a person (I would have loved to say "woman", but I might have come off a little sexist) should never lose while being in a relationship, is his/her identity. I remember after my last break up, while talking to a close friend from my university days, she asked me this question: If the Sharon of 2008 (before the relationship started) met the Sharon of now, would they recognise each other?

When that question was asked, I was stunned. I was held back. I felt like I was being hit in the face with a fly-swatter, and those things do not even really exist anymore.

Because the truth is, that if I had to travel back in time to meet the "older" me, I would probably not recognise myself at all. Or to make horror or horrors worse, the "older" me would be shocked to see the "newer" me.

I remember, while working on my monologue for this festival, where I basically chose to bare all and tell all about my bipolar disorder, my director and I came to the conclusion that the "new" me is of course stronger. And in so many ways, when it comes to battling this illness, I definitely think that the current me is stronger. More steadfast. Knows more. And knowledge is power.

But when it comes to the issue of identity, and if I choose to analyse the "me" minus my illness and instead I choose to focus solely on the fact that I was in a relationship, I would say that the "new" me is no better than the "old" me.

I looked through old photos and old blog posts one day, very recently, and I realised that the things I used to love doing or feel strongly about, did not resonate well at all in my previous relationship. A clear example would be the fact that I felt so strongly about the state of socio-economics of this country. I care about the political "turmoil" of this country. I care about the people of this country.

My partner of three years did not even believe in voting. He was, and I believe, is still not even a registered voter.

I lost the sense of enjoyment in music while I was with my ex. We had a jarring case of difference when it came to music, and it became all too apparent. And so in a period of darkness in my life, I completely lost the ability to listen to music. And another thing I've come to realise? Is that the "me" of today is so much more open to different kinds of music, as compared to the "me" of before.

So it would be entirely awesome if I could meet someone with whom I could share the same values, and even if we don't, he would respect the fact that I cherish those values. He will not say that my struggles are in vain, or that they do not matter.

My taste in men have been a little strange, and who is to blame but myself? No, this is completely not a moment of self-pity, but instead, this is a moment of self-realisation (refer to beginning of post). I have landed in relationships whereby I allowed the men to woo me, even when I believed the relationship had no chance of working out. I always give things a chance (or two, or three), which is not necessarily a mistake. Like I said, they make you learn more about yourself.

The only thing is that I should learn from this too. After all, this year opened my eyes to the kind of men that I find attractive, regardless of their feelings towards me.

Now, that too, may not be such a good thing. I don't want to live my life pining for someone who is most likely pining for someone else. But it does help to put life into perspective a little; to help me see what kind of men I find attractive.

And another thing I learned this year? Is that we should always give things a chance. When it comes to the unknown, you feel with your heart. Allow it to go sometimes. We may be making the biggest mistake ever, but it's a risk worth taking. And this is coming from a person who has taken risks all her life; I dare say that I have lived.

My senses are definitely more open now. I know what I want.

The only drawback right now, and this is probably more from the fact that I feel alone, and I can't help it, is that it doesn't help waking up every morning feeling heavy hearted. I remember saying once that it is better to be single than unloved in a relationship. But no matter how unloved you feel in a relationship, when you give so much of yourself, you make believe that you are loved. I don't even know if that makes sense, but that's just how it works. Instead, these days I feel like I'm a gunny sack. I feel completely unattractive, and it makes me wonder why men don't see me as a woman.

Maybe it's because I hang around guys too much.

Or maybe, simply maybe, it's a case of mistaken identity.