Boxes

Whenever I get into a manic state, I always feel a desperate need to move out of my house. We’ve lived in the home we’re in now for about five years, and for every episode has been a corresponding itch to move. I need more space, more time, more organization. I always joke about throwing away all of my stuff during these times, but the possibility is very real. Tonight, I scoured the kitchen, tossing casserole dishes, coffee mugs, tupperware… just about anything I could get my hands on. My husband was by my side offering support and keeping me from tossing things I would later miss. The boxes of items for the Goodwill truck piled higher but I still can’t shake this feeling. There are other reasons why I want to get the hell out: Our daughter’s school is terrible, the house is small, the neighborhood is deteriorating. But is it all in my head?

This is the first time I’ve actively pursued the need to stretch my legs. I wonder though how I’ll feel during the next bout of mania. If we move, will the new house be too small? That neighborhood suddenly seedy? Worse yet, will my next swing be in the middle of a move? What will happen if I’m too low to get out of bed and we have piles of stuff to get out. Being bipolar affects my life in new ways that I’m learning about every day.

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