"Keep to a routine"... That's what they tell you when you have bipolar
disorder.. " Keep your surroundings calm.." Of course I take that
advice to the nth degree ... Everyday the same as long as I can
remember.. One day blends seamlessly into the next.. I rise at the same
time each morning, long before dawn.. gulp down a handful of pills to
fight off the anxiety that grows the closer I get to work time.. wear a
path in the rug.. bedroom .. hall.. bathroom ..kitchen.. repeat
backwards.. Each area has its own light that casts a circle of
illumination.. I never, or almost never, stray from the light. This
morning was different though, if only very slightly.. I made one of my
rare deviations from the routine.. Just a few extra steps to the
shelves to find a book I know I once had..
The living room was dark so
I switched on a long unused lamp on the end table. My eyes found the
book I wanted right away but as I picked it up I disturbed a deep layer
of dust that seemed to cover everything.. In that moment I had the
distinct feeling of disturbing a long dead crypt.. another life buried
from the eyes of the world..
I looked around the room ... pictures in
frames of babies that haven't been babies for years.. wedding pictures
of a marriage long dead.. loves long gone.. religious icons from a
faith long lost..cobwebs.. dust.. On the floor a basket of (what was
once) freshly washed toddler clothes waiting to be put away in the
dresser.. another basket lies across the room full of toddler clothes
still waiting to be washed.. a basket of videotapes.. Barney... Disney
Sing-A-Longs.. Power Rangers.. a few children's toys scattered randomly
about looking forlorn. A single child's sneaker.. A feeling of
disturbing what shouldn't be disturbed comes over me and I quickly
switch off the lamp and rush back to the safety of the light..
Eventually
the pills take hold and I'm able to pick up my softside briefcase and
begin the trek into town from the burbs. I ride the bus.. Seattle only
has one freeway that feeds the town and the bumper to bumper drive is
maddening.. I hate the bus and try my best to sleep, or if not sleep, at
least keep my eyes closed for the entire trip.. If I open them, the
things I see anger and disgust and sometimes scare me.. This morning a
stinking bum smelling of sweat and urine and unwashed clothes shambles
on with his filthy blanket wrapped around him and finds a seat close
enough to me that I'm shaken from my fugue state. The bum..young.. a
smack addict no doubt.. infected sores on his face and arms.. coughing
and hacking lord knows what germs into the air around us.. the bus is
on the road now and I'm trapped aboard for at least a half an hour..
theres no getting away..
As I search the bus with my eyes looking for
another empty seat (there are none) I spy a woman with the the face of
a wolf near the front... She's starring at me with those cold black
calculating wolf eyes.. I expect to see her bare her fangs in a snarl
dripping with saliva at any moment, but she just stares.. I stare back
briefly but she's not intimidated.. To my right a pig holds a newspaper
between his hooves and appears to be reading.. A llama a few seats in
front of him... I tell myself that these perceptions are all in my
head, but its hard to argue with your eyes.. I close my eyes again and
try my best to will myself to sleep.
