Transition

I’m in a transitional period.

That’s a good phrase for anything if you are having problems in life. No job? Transitional period. Understanding of what you believed in caving in on you? Transitional period. Swapping between form and inner perspectives on life and its happenings? Transitional period.

I’m nearing the end of a manic cycle. I’ve got quite good at identifying these now. My manic cycles are usually much much shorter than my depressive ones. I expect my depressive cycle to begin as early as tomorrow with where my head is at now.

I’ve actually been looking at some counseling options here in town. I don’t really have the money for a good counselor anyway. My experience with the “economic” styling is far from good. I had a counselor who suggested preposterous ideas to me. She encouraged me to hone my remote viewing skills as well as prove that people were made of rainbows. Now, this may seem like jokes, and maybe they were. She certainly didn’t laugh. And it certainly wasn’t funny.

But, for such anecdotal reasons, I’m often skeptical to go to a counseling place I can actually afford. I was thinking I could go when I returned to school in the Spring, but with the issues going on, I’m going to postpone my return, probably get another job and hate my life a little more. I keep telling myself it will be ok, and I don’t even know what ok is.

“Grant, you’re young, you got a near full life ahead of you.”

Easily one of my most hated things to hear. Very near the top of the list of things people shouldn’t say to me. Age and remainder of life have nothing to do with my issues at the moment. If they do play a factor at all it’s in wondering how the fuck I’m going to keep at it for that long. Especially when you can say the same thing to the person who said it to you if they are unhappy with their lives, they always have an excuse.

So, it just seems they want to say bullshit they don’t believe themselves, because that’s our society. We want to help, but not really. Sometimes we don’t know how to help, that’s ok, I get that, I cut lots and lots of slack for those people. I don’t know how to help others. I still try my damndest and if I offend them, which I know I have, I try to catch that and apologize.

THIS. This is bipolar. Not knowing what you want your own life to be. It changes as fast as you can commit to the previous idea or purpose. You’re happy and full of energy for a few days, then in anguish and lament the following week. It’s different for a lot of people. And most people can have it and not know. Most people think that bipolar is something of a different nature.

All that aside. Looking through my efforts. My experiences, my drive, my reasons. Few things have remained consistent. My hope for Man. And making the effort to be the change I wish to see in the world. I guess that doesn’t leave much room for friends. It doesn’t leave much room for relationships. It doesn’t leave much room for school or aspirations within a field.

It leaves only unhappiness. It leaves only things to destroy the hopes of the other things. That’s my fault in some regard, I’ve harbored these thoughts without constructing something useful for so long, it’s hard not to hate. I hate that I simply hate people and am driven to be at their beck and call.

That’s my consistency. That’s my story right? I’m not here to live a life and be happy and cool. My purpose, it’s to do my damndest to better the world. I couldn’t tell you why. I’m deranged. Most people don’t seem to give a legitimate damn about their fellow man.

I do. And it hurts.

I risk sacrificing healthy nutrition for myself to get some toys for kids to donate. That’s not necessary. But the thought of a kid getting something, and they have so very little…

Those children, their minds can still be shaped. I believe they are our future. Not in the way most people do. Not in that they take over when we start to wither and then pass the torches down to their next generation. No. I mean their minds are still fresh, full of curiosity and wonder. They should be so lucky to cling to ideals of a perfect world, that they might eventually try to achieve it.

But, for that to happen. So many things have to line up. And though I doubt they ever will, and have such a great magnitude of that. I still am unable to abandon my hope. So, I must push forth, being the change I wish to see in the world (whoever said that, I have a hard time improving it).

It would be healthier for me to not think this way. I know. I have tried. I could be happy. But, there’s gotta be someone looking out for the future, otherwise we don’t have sustainability. And if I can remember that’s me. Both in manic and depressive episodes. In every action and thought I try to work out, if I can keep that in mind, I at least have purpose.

To doing the impossible, to being only human in order to be only better than human.

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