Rolling along

Someone asked me if I feel like my life has been harder than the lives of others. I admitted that I have often felt that way, but have also recently realized that everyone else in the worlds probably feels that way, or should. The real issue is that life is lousy because this is not the only world, and we shouldn't keep ourselves attached to this world.

Awww, look at the cute duckling. Look at its cute little foot pressed up by its cute little face.

I had another conversation--this happens a lot--about the ravages of bipolar disorder. Where I live, my closest friends were all born the same year and have all experienced it. I have long complained that the problem with bipolar in the community is that it affects your interface with other people. If you have any disease, especially a not-terminal disease, you can still be a sweet or consistent person or whatever. Your personality stays the same. But if you have a psychological disease, like bipolar, that makes you think differently or act differently, there's a meshing of who you are and the problem you have.

It's easy to think of my friends with the disorder as good people burdened with an illness. It's hard to think of my mom that way. I could get away with calling her a burden. She send another email this morning and I got mad. Most people who know her can't even think of her as a person with a problem. They think of her as a living problem. I think of her that way, too. After everything so many have tried, reaching a person like that is way beyond any of our means.