I'll never meet my best friend.

I came to be friends with my best friend in a most roundabout way. It started on LiveJournal and didn't involve him at all. It ended on Facebook and now he's such an integral part of my life it's hard to believe there ever was a time that he wasn't a part of it. But my best friend and I will never meet, not in real life anyway. He lives in Scotland, I live in the US. Neither of us can afford to fly off to the other and it doesn't look like either of our situations will ever change to the point where we will be able to.

He's angry and belligerent most of the time and just belligerent the rest. We argue at each other just for the sake of arguing and sometimes because he's quite drunk and drunk dialing Amy seems like a fun thing to do. I whine and moan and take all of my frustration out on him because he owes me for that 3 hour phone call the night before that was mostly us throwing F bombs back and forth at each other and sometimes talking about movies and music or my girls in between. I put up with him and he puts up with me, and I'm not sure there are very many people out there that would do the same for either of us.

He checks up on me because he knows how bad I get. He makes me tell him the truth, even if I don't want to. He acts like he doesn't care about anyone but there isn't anyone else in the world who refuses to accept, "I'm fine" or, "I'm ok" as an answer when they ask how I'm doing. Everyone else is content to wrap it up so neatly. Dust their hands off, "She's ok everyone! She told me so herself!" He pushes, he digs and he makes me tell him the good and the bad, and I love him for it.

I am generally somewhat reserved with everyone. I keep a piece of myself for myself. I can never give all of myself away because if someone has all of you they have the potential to destroy you. Alex knows everything about me. He knows about my love life (or lack of), he knows about my friends, my family, what's going on with my daughters and if there are any issues between their fathers and I. He's the first to know when something super exciting happens (in a way. The message goes to him first. Due to our 5 hour time difference sometimes he isn't the first to read it), the first to know when my world comes crashing down. He has blackmail material on me. I've asked him for opinions on everything from bathing suits to boyfriends.

It's a fairly unconventional relationship. Guys I date usually take a little while to understand that their girlfriend spends hours every day on the phone with another man but she's not interested in him. They come around eventually though. We're a very good example of life sending you what you need when you don't expect it, in ways you don't see coming. I know that until the day he kicks me out of his life kicking and screaming, he will be my best, best friend.

Some days bipolar disorder has me.

I'm not new to the mental health game. I've been medicated longer than I've done most things in my life. I've seen the inside of more doctor's rooms, been evaluated plenty of times, and talked to more than a couple therapists and counsellors. I know how my disorder works. It's sneaky and it steals your life little pieces at a time. 

Still there are days when I feel as if it's the bipolar disorder that has me, not I that has it. No matter how much therapy I go to or how much medication I take I feel as if I'll never have complete control. 

There will always be days like today. Days where I wake up as tired as I went to sleep but in a good enough mood. I'll get things done, the girls off to school, the dishes done. All the while I can feel my mood sliding. Nothing has to happen, I just grow ever more...weary. Then my thoughts turn gray. 

I'll begin to think about how I miss him so. To wonder why I can't just give in and try to be happy with someone? I'll remind myself I'm alone because I choose not to inflict my disorder on others. This comes with the usual realization that I will live a very lonely life. My eyes start to get teary somewhere during this process. 

Maybe I'll think of a happy memory. A flash of a smile, that look in his eyes, hearing, "You're the best mom ever!" when I manage to do something right. There they are again, those pesky tears. 

By the end of the day I'm a shaky, teary-eyed, wobbly mess. I put on a smile and I laugh for the girls but it's always there under the surface. I joke with my friends and hide my emotions. It's still there though. That feeling that everything is gray and that the darkness is close behind. 

Bedtime will eventually come and I'll fall into a medication induced sleep. Never knowing if the next day I will have my disorder or it will have me.  

Love isn't in my plan.

I don't want to be in love. It's not a good time for me. I don't want that giddy feeling, the completeness. I don't want to need someone again. 

I'm not ready for love, whoever is in charge of timing really blew it on that one. You should have brought him back to me when I was ready. With the way I am now, this will only end in disaster. 

I'm not ready for the anticipation. For waiting all week just to see those gorgeous eyes. For making plans and holding hands. None of that is on my life calendar right now. 

I'm not ready. 

I'm not ready for the jealousy, the insecurity, the fear of loss. I'm not ready to always wonder if tomorrow will be the day I'll finally be too crazy and they'll walk away. Is today the day he meets the next me? Brighter, thinner, better. 

I'm not ready for love. Nah, not me. 

But I have to make time for myself and some changes.

I didn't get around to those posts yet. They're waiting. I was waiting on one because it's about razors and you kind of need to see them in action but I haven't used one yet. I keep forgetting. Tonight! 

I'm going to change a little about the blog. The post titles won't be me finishing the blog's title prompt. It will make it easier on me to describe the post that way. I think that's about it though. It'll still be a strange mess of whatever I like at the time. 

You know what they never tell you about mental illness? Even the stable days are hard. You still struggle even when the medication is working and you feel better. You still wake up sometimes and hate yourself, your life, being alive, the idea of going through with this for the rest of your life just breaks you. Those days still happen, even when everything is good. The fight never ends when you're at war with your own mind. You never get to lay down your sword and rest for a bit because just when you do the darkness creeps in and steals your sword. 

Every day I try to wake up prepared to fight. Some days I am not successful and darkness does it's slow creep over me. It's become a comfortable thing now, my darkness. I try to tell myself everyone deserves a day here and there, it won't hurt to take a day but it's a slippery slope. I have to wake up extra ready and have friends who are also at the ready to help me fight the next day. If the darkness gets comfortable, well there's no telling when it will leave.