Love is An Old Friend

What was it that drew us to each other?

We were juniors in high school when we met. We lived in the same suburban houses... she on the northeastern end and I on the west. We went to different elementary schools and finally met in high school because of a mutual acquaintance.
What drew me to this life long friend in the beginning? Common interests or a need for contrast to my undeveloped and blossoming persona? The wanting of a friend with uncommon and interesting beauty in a world of conformity? Maybe it was her beautiful red hair, but I think it was more her energy of thought to my laid back, introspective, poetry writing self. She was an exciting gift of talent and creativity.
But, like a flower that unexpectedly appears in the winter and doesn't have enough sun to develop, she struggled. She would go from totally focused positive energy to anger at stupidity, and the injustices of the world. She was the spirit of protest in the 60's at Berkeley.
She was, and is, a uncommon flower in the storm of life.

This was a flower that struggled. Having been through many harsh winters even before I knew her.

 

My friend suffers from Bipolar Disorder. Possibly because of some DNA passed down from a loved parent who suffered too. She has struggled most of her life to maintain a balance... to look at life in a positive way and to be happy.
She is a brilliant, complex woman who is amazingly gifted. But, as a result of the drugs that give her stability, she frequently finds life flat and disconnected . The drugs take her creativity and interest away.
My friend was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder almost 15 years ago. She is a survivor. But it's not like being a cancer survivor. It's not about getting the tumor out and taking the treatments. It's not about seeing the end of the tunnel and moving on with hope and reassurance.
This is Bipolar Disorder and no matter what drugs you take, no matter how many therapist you talk to, it's an on going battle. Then, there are the scary moments when you realize that the drugs aren't working and the horror of knowing that, without constant monitoring of this insidious disorder, you might never find relief.
You want clarity. You want peace of mind.

The fence gate you see as a new direction might only lead to another set of ups and downs that are almost impossible to navigate and life becomes a series of potholes to fall into.
She dodged the land minds, running uphill until finally coming to a complete standstill, because being out of breath was as much about fear as it was about health.

I have walked this friend's road, off and on, for many years. I've seen her manic, brave, crazy in love, raising a daughter, very happy and very, very sad. I have watched her struggle with anger and be amazed by happy moments  and now I see her, as an older woman, still fighting for a balance.
She is my friend and I can only give her vegetable soup and hugs as if she had a cold or the flu.
I can only give her a place to stay, and comfort... a little laughter and listening.
It never seems enough.

Why does she have to struggle this much?
Where is the god of "Give me a frigging break!" ?

I love this old friend. She knows I do.
We talked about a puppy. She says maybe a Dachshund. She loves Carl and Cutter.
I think this would be a good idea, my friend. Let's do it.
I will be down there soon...