It's 10:53pm Christmas Eve and I hear the stillness.

My clock ticks rather loudly in the stillness.

The two palm tree right outside my window? I'm up where the palm fronds are. They are literally RIGHT outside my window.

I can hear their fronds rustling in the gentle breeze that is blowing in the stillness.

My housemate? She is out celebrating Christmas Eve wherever 62 year old single missionaries celebrate Christmas Eve... so the house is making nary a sound. All the walls contain the stillness.

My mind is calm right now. Quiet. Peaceful. Resting. Clear. Still

It's like finding anchor after a really bad storm.

It is 10:59pm and my mind is celebrating the stillness.

This entire day has been surreal. My flip out earlier was not on my To Do list for the day. My mood has been up and down all day today. I finally forced myself to eat something around 4pm and I took my litium. I couldn't take the lamictal or my levothryoid. I haven't felt physically well all day... but like I said, my mood's been swinging. I've been up since my last post but I've also been down. My head is tiring me out.

In a brief moment of clarity I discovered the true meaning of Christmas for me. I've spent the last half an hour or so talking to God. Some praying for other. Some whining about my life and what I THOUGHT that I'd be doing tonight and with whom. And then my thoughts took a different train. What would 2006 look like for me?

Then I thought back. Thinking back can work both ways for me. Tonight it walked a thin line between either way. I thought back to when I was in college. I wrote a paper for one of my Rhetoric classes. I've long since forgotten the class or the paper. I only remember the first, very dramatic first line. I wrote the paper in one of my darker depressive pits. It was when I'd wear all black with my hair pulled over my face. Dramatic look to suit a dramatic mind:

"The song that says that suicide is painless lies. I know. I've been there."

THAT was the first line of a paper written for a Rhetoric class at Berekeley. I'm sure the prof must have choked on a fur ball. I went on to say something about whether it would be better to cut out a cancer or leave it. According to me... a life full of depression and emotional pain was like a cancer. Man... the more I write about the paper, the more I remember what I wrote. I went on to say that I didn't think I'd live to be 30. I can imagine my prof's fur ball turning into a fur muff. What had the poor man done to deserve having me in his class???

And it was that mememory that got me out of my bed. I was laying their battling my thougths and trying not to cry. I've cried a LOT today. I'm rather done with it now. Back at Berkeley I didn't think I'd live to be 30 years old. I figured I'd kill myself long before then. I think I said as much in the paper. By that point, I'm sure the prof wasn't sure what to say or to whom to say it. I've outlived my worst predictions by 7 years. Things have not been easy for me... but I have had 7 years worth of living and choices that I wouldn't have had had I killed myself. There has been good along the way. I would be a big FLAMING LIAR if I tried to portray my life as completely wretched. If I thank God for nothing else (which I can't since I've got much to be grateful for)... if I thank him for anything I'm thankful that I'm alive.

As stupid as it may sound to some... the only thing I want "this time next year" is to be alive. I want to live. With my life there will always be a lot of rain. If my bipolar didn't doesn't bring it my melancholy personality will... and if my sanguine personality traits kick in... then they'll draw in some drama as well. Funny. My two basic character traits are Sanguine and Melancholy. They are polar opposites! My deepest wish for 2006? Balance.

I just fell head first down the spiral staircase.

I've been in bed all day and I haven't eaten anything. I still can't take my meds and my throat still hurts... yet inspite of this I was good. Reading that CSI novel that I got for Christmas... I was ok. I was actually going to turn out the light and take a nap... but something happened and I fell into the Bipolar Zone which can only be reached by free falling down the spiral staircase that is depression.

Two days ago? Three? The depression was extremely bad. Enough to pray to God to kill me. Since then my moods have been up and they've been down. More down than up... but I know it's situational. I know once the holidays are over and I'm back at work it won't be so bad. I know that once I can eat again it won't be so low. I know that as I still process the fallout from my relationship... my depression will lift more and more. When I start up therapy Jan.3 it's got to get better. Like I said, situational. It's when I can't pinpoint the cause of my episodes that there's real cause for worry. It might get bad for me... but if I know what pushed the button there is always the ability to push back.

Today I started free falling. My throat is still not open enough to breathe clearly. I was sobbing and trying not to choke. Panting like a dog. Trying to breathe. Battling my own thoughts? My thoughts? What were they??

Just go take all your meds. Just go do it. You can't take this anymore. Why do you bother??? I thought about the paper on which I'd write my suicide note. It just seemed so easy. It always sounds easy when I free falling... but the landing is what would be a bitch.  A very final landing. That's when I start to tell myself, "DON'T think the thoughts if you're not going to follow through with them." That's when I have to challenge my degree of seriousness. That's when I have to grab hold of the banister on the way down.

I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. THERE IS NO TRIGGER IN THE WORLD THAT IS GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF AFTER ALL THE WORK I'VE DONE THE PAST 12 YEARS TO GET THE DEGREE OF MENTAL WELLNESS THAT I HAVE.

Sometimes I get pushed down the staircase by mean people. It's happened a lot over the years. They intentionally hurt me just because they can. Other times I put my own bananas at the top of the staircase and my own actions cause me to slip fall. Then there are times when people don't know that they hurt me... never intended to hurt me... but did. Those offenses are the easiest to forgive... but knowing that doesn't stop the free fall.

I don't like it when I get to the point in the free fall where I'm thinking about  "The NOTE." You know "THE NOTE."  I was thinking about what color paper I'd used and what I'd say.... that's when I picked up my phone to call.....??? Who? There were people that I could call... but I couldn't. I wasn't truly in crisis. I KNEW that I wasn't going to kill myself but how do you start THAT conversation w/o people freaking out?? If I told anybody here that I was having suicidal thoughts my teaching career for at least the next semester might be in question. I had to grab the banister.

Consider it pure joy my brothers whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith developes perseverance and perseverance must finish its work so that you can be mature and complete lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom you should ask God who gives generously to all and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think that he will receive anything from God for he is a double minded man unstable in all that he does.

That's from the book of James and I know if by heart. It has stopped me from falling more times than you will ever know. I have often been that double minded person. Definition of bipolar??? But with each free fall that I take, my faith has become stronger. I don't like free falling.... but it is a fact of my reality. I continue to ask for wisdom and God's joy. I am always stopped short from a final, fatal fall. It is what stopped me just now. Writing helps once I've calmed down. It clears my head. It has proved very helpful right now.

Another part of that scripture came to mind as I typed it. I don't know it nearly as well...

Blessed is he who perseveres under trial because when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

Not only was I given a banister to hold on to... I was given a big pillow to cushion my fall.

I just got off the phone with a woman who serves as my mentor. She's a deacon from my old church in SF... but she's also a really good friend. Since she knows GS and actually really liked him... she understood exactly how I've been feeling. She didn't read me the riot act or give me the lecture. There was no talk of "getting out of my comfort zone." She understood how even small things trigger memories for me. Point in case, she mentioned the quarterly business meeting at my church. She said the meeting was boring. Wham! Button activated. The only one of the business meeting I EVER attended in the entire time I was a memeber was with GS. She didn't get on my case though and it was actually helpful to be able to point out to somebody how the whole button pushing thing is working on me. She did the one thing I have really wanted but few people have offered: she offered to pray for me.

Last night I got a phone call. Who calls me at night here??? Nobody. My cell is in my room and I'm watching tv in the living room hoping spiders won't come out when it rang. The likelihood of me making it from the couch to my room wasn't likely at all... but run for it I did. I couldn't find it when I got to my room... but I got it just before it went to voicemail.

It was a woman from my old church. I'd called her earlier in the week and hadn't heard from her. I hadn't actually spoken to her since I left. I just felt like I should call her so I did. I got her voicemail and then no word so I forgot about it. Her call came at just the right time. She's what you call a "prayer warrior." She prays ALL the time and is a woman of very strong faith. She asked how she could pray for me. She knows GS and the history too. She prayed for me on the spot.

Answered prayer to have two praying women from my church call me? I think so.

Another note: I stopped taking the medication from the reflux. I couldn't do it anymore. It was making me really nauseaous last night just thinking about taking it. Actually, the idea of taking any medication to day makes me want to puke and I RARELY (if ever) say that word. I can't take my bipolar medication today. I can't eat today. The idea of either makes me sick. I'm not cranky about it... I'm accepting it. I'm going to go in to the doctor on Monday. Something is really not right here.

I just got finished watching that movie, "Legally Blonde." Rather silly movie but it made me laugh and I needed to laugh today. I'm going on the assumption that if I am having an allergic reaction to the meds then I should stop taking the stuff for the reflux (not my bipolar stuff. I'm mental... not stupid). I still don't feel good and eating is still not beneficial for me. Mood's good though.

The movie helped take my mind off the fact that breathing and swallowing are difficult and I had a really good laugh. The ending hit me though. Despite all odds, she graduated. Made me think of my own college graduation. I had a lot of stuff against me. My bipolar was undiagnosed so I spent 5 years trying to avoid suicide. I had a few half-hearted attempts but mostly to avoid pain not life itself. I almost dropped out of college my 4th year b/c one of the bad side effects of bipolar is that it messes with your concentration. I couldn't read. For a Rhetoric major this was a nightmare. I thought that I'd somehow managed to fool everybody into thinking that I was brilliant. I couldn't figure out how I'd faked my way to my 4th year of college being illiterate but my world seemed to be crumbling around me. My hopes of law school... my brilliant future.

I nearly dropped out and had it not been for the fact that my mentor was the Assistant Dean of Undergraduate Admission... I would have dropped out. He talked me out of it.

But graduation day came for me. Unfortunately my mom, my stepfather, my sisters??? They couldn't be bothered to be there. The only child of 10 graduating from a major university and my family could care less. My mom was having health issues and my sister (who over reacts as much as I do) thought my  mom was dying. So I'm closing the most important chapter of my young life thinking that my family hates me and my mother's dying.

Still haven't gotten to the good part, eh? Anybody who's been following my blog for any length of time should know by now that I rarely get straight to the point. Remember the "Road to PNG" blogs??? This, thankfully, won't be one of those epic blogs. *Did I happen to mention that there was a shark attack the other day or that waves are expected to be 30 ft tonight??? Ok, but seriously.

My sister Lisa (the "white sheep" of our family/black families don't HAVE "black sheep") was the only family member to come see me cross the stage. I had some friends there but there was one person there who really believed in me. He saw promise in me that I didn't even see in myself. He was one of THE most respected professors on the UC Berkeley campus I'd taken several of his classes. He thought I showed promise and genius. I spoke to him on the phone and expressed remorse that my family had refused to come... but he said, that I could consider him my honorary dad. The most respected professor in my major was allowing me to consider him family. He was telling me that he was proud of me. Damn. Even writing about it makes me cry after all these years.

After all the memories of sucidal episodes and all the stupid fraternity parties and dumb dorm events... this is the one college memory I don't ever want to forget. Eventually, the depressed episode passed and I rediscovered that I COULD read. It was only 8 years ago that I found out that bipolar can mess with your concentration and functions related to it like reading. When my moods swing low... I don't even try to read anymore and I have difficulty reading long pieces here on the blog even though I'm guilty of that myself.

I'm thankful for that professor. He stepped into my life at one of the most crucial moments and believed in me. He believed in my writing. He challenged me to pursue excellence.