Outbursts
2026-08-19
Man, the page really does feel like it's on fire today, so I better write fast.
I felt myself getting manic again, which is typical just after a depressive slump. Thankfully the slumps have gotten easier, and at times a bit shorter—just a few days compared to several weeks historically. But after the slump comes that uptick where the thoughts start flowing and all I want to do is write them down and write them down; no sleep, just write it down until I go blue in the fingers. Thankfully, I've wised up to the condition, so I took an olanzapine before bed. I woke up at 8 AM, then fell right back asleep until noon; that's a price I'm willing to pay, especially when my mind feels much calmer than it should. That's the most important thing I've learned about the antipsychotics: you can't be on them continuously, and I don't care what the medical "professionals" say. The side effects are too powerful; if I were taking that olanzapine every day, I'd be sleeping in until 4 PM. I can't have that, because I have to write while I'm still fresh. Thankfully, before falling back asleep this morning, I was able to get some Jesus Prayers in; while not in front of my icon corner and instead out on the back patio after smoking, it's still an improvement over nothing.
Feeling lifted from the depressive spell is such a strange sigh of relief. It always forces me to remember that I'm not that fucked up, the world's not that fucked up, and that I just get sick every once in a while. And guess what? That's totally fine. I can hold it with dignity, and not be so self-loathing that I forget the importance of simple joys when I get the brainpower to experience them again. You know, God's totally fine with us getting pissed off about that shit. Don't believe me? Consult Job 40:6–14 (NASB):
Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm and said: "Now tighten the belt on your waist like a man; I will ask you, and you instruct Me. Will you really nullify My judgment? Will you condemn Me so that you may be justified? Do you have an iron arm? Do you give birth to people in every moment? Adorn yourself with pride and dignity, and clothe yourself with honor and majesty. Let out your outbursts of anger, and look at everyone who is haughty, and bring him down, though he be lower than you. (Shall He not do so in His anger, when He puts all the proud low?) Then I will also confess to you, that your own right hand can save you."
To give some context, this is toward the end of the story when God comes down in the form of a storm cloud to try and answer Job's questions about his suffering and to address his righteousness in the face of that suffering. The key phrase from the passage: "Let out your outbursts of anger." When I think of how unfair it is to have my condition, that God is being an asshole and that the world is fucked up, I try to remember that it's totally cool to be angry at the world, but that God has a greater perspective than I do. He gave me this damn bipolar for a reason. I have to go through this shit for a reason, and I know that because of God's perfect and inexplicable judgment, He has good things planned for me. More than anything, I know that I have the power to get through it with my works and His grace. Even when I find myself having to sleep day in and day out, feeling so burned out and empty that nothing feels like anything, I can push through that pain and rest on His yoke. The main thing I try to remember is to actually concern myself with what matters—not the financial shit, not the "career" shit, not the instability of myself and the world—but the constant and enduring remembrance of the simple yet elusive truth that the only good in this world comes from Him.
I don't just give my thanks, but I also lay down my grievances at His feet, and He'll hear my cries just fine. I don't have the will to be perfect, but I do have the will to express myself to Him and ask Him for the right things in the pursuit of perfection. My only duties in this life are to love God, my neighbor, and to deny myself in pursuit of those two things. Even if all I have to give are these confessions and thoughts, I will give them willingly because I know that outside of my room and computer screen, there is someone out there who feels similarly to me—and just seeing these things projected elsewhere can be that signaling beacon they need to know that they're not alone.
We're still here, still struggling, still finding our way back home.
Get there safe for me, would you?
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