Mania(s)

I feel like I have been living my life in a cycle of mania. I can talk myself into believing that a day will be a good day. I can make a day a good day. I an have good conversations. I can smile, laugh, and be okay. I can be myself. For one day, for two days, maybe three days. And then...I'm not. I'm not okay. I am not strong, or brave, or happy. Not on the outside, and not on the inside. I am exhausted, anxious, and lacking energy or ambition. I simply want to curl up in the fetal position and sleep. And wait. Wait for the downer phase to pass. Wait for my bubbly self to come back to life. Wait for my energy to recharge. Wait until I am ready to take on the world again. At least for another two or three days. I do not, by any means, feel like I am suffering from Bi-Polar. I know enough about that to know that this is not what is happening. This is my anxiety working overtime. This is my gears grinding too hard and too fast to keep up. This is me trying to make the best out of what is quite frankly a really shitty situation during a really exciting time in life. I know I post so many wonderful pictures of how amazing Austin is. When I tell you how much I am loving this new city, I'm not lying. I know I wanted this just as much as Matthew, I KNOW this was a choice we made together. But that doesn't make it easier. I have good days, like I did Sunday and Monday and then it hits me that I am enjoying this amazing new adventure without my best friend, my rock, my partner in all things life. I shouldn't have to be experiencing all of these things by myself. I shouldn't have to send pictures or text messages or call Matthew to tell him about what new and exciting thing I found. I shouldn't have to text him a "when you get to Austin we have to do this" list. This isn't fair. Not to him. Not to me. This sucks. What I can't seem to get over is that it's okay for it to suck. It's okay for it to be hard and for me to have bad days, because this is only temporary. What I can't get my brain to shut the fuck up about is "what if it's not". We who know anxiety all too well know that our minds automatically go to the worst case scenario. I feel like the longer we are apart the greater the chance of us never seeing each again. Is that a totally irrational fear? Not exactly. We all know nobody is promised tomorrow. But why, for the love all things green, does this have to be the one constant thought at the front of my mind? I know good and well that a month has come and gone and, like everyone likes to remind me "he will be here before I know it". But that doesn't matter. I can't convince myself. I make comments to him like "when you get here next year" or "by the time you get here I'll be one thing or another". Things that clearly don't help this separation, but what good is it to keep that all inside? I also find that when these slumps come on I can't sleep. I wake up frequently, I have nightmares which lead to panic attacks either because I can't wake myself up or I don't realize that it isn't a dream. That doesn't help my tired body. I just want to feel normal again.

The good days are amazing. The bad days are hard. They're mentally tiring. They're physically exhausting. These bad days are trying to break me and I'm fighting back with all of my might to not let them. I have to put on a brave face. I have to get up, dress up, and show up. If not for me, than for Matthew; who when he gets here is never going to be let out of sight again. Ever. And that is a promise.