Being Bi

is not a new moniker for me to wear.

I have (technically) been bipedal my whole life.

I have been bisexual just as long.

But I recently had bipolar added to this list. 


*WARNING*
Hard Core Humaning Ahead!


The uneducated medical marvel that is my mind figured it had been there all along, but a real world doctor finally agreed and assigned. 

Because I finally went to see one.

I didn't go because of this: 

I went because of this:

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I have gone before to many others for many different reasons, but this was a first for that one.

Specifically this one: 

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Though it looks like this, admittedly it's the vodka that felt this way.

If you haven't clued in by now, being around me is not [doable, enjoyable and/or successful] for everyone. In fact I'm certain it's only for very particularly peculiar people.

It does not surprise me that my internet mom and IRL human dated.

Weirdly specific weirdos will find a way to each other. Usually through the internet. 

And that sense of connection is never guaranteed nor promised. It is what it is when it is and I'll never stop valuing it when I have it for however long it lasts.

But parental status is life long, whether you like it or not. And that has been a daunting task for mine since day one. 

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School was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I've ever done in my life. My cerebral circumstance thrives on structure, which scholastic studies demand. But I become physically ill upon exposure to idiocy; either systematically or due to that of those around me. Compounded by constant new, uncertainty and a lack of control, my anxiety levels were so high it was genuinely destroying me from the inside out.

 Bottom right.

Bottom right.

So you can imagine what a ball of fun I was when I came home. 

I usually kept the tie on. 

 Sidebar: This is not racist, this is a total lack of face painting abilities or cultural awareness. This is "Muffy the Dog" as portrayed by my cousin. I had a leash for Muffy and would feed her cereal out of a bowl on the floor while our parents watched - because even then I believed this shit qualified for an audience. 

Sidebar: This is not racist, this is a total lack of face painting abilities or cultural awareness. This is "Muffy the Dog" as portrayed by my cousin. I had a leash for Muffy and would feed her cereal out of a bowl on the floor while our parents watched - because even then I believed this shit qualified for an audience. 

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I am this

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And I am this

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The rest is this

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And eating

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I avoided the affirmation of my sensations for so long because I thought that may make them more powerful; and they are certainly strong enough on their own. 

But it was semi-forcibly and certainly unceremoniously thrust upon me four months ago and I've been navigating my way through my newly labeled familiar fuckery ever since. 

Sticks and stones may brake my bones but seemingly semantics will fuck my frontal lobe. 

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The process has also been a bit of a relief as it has provided a "why" to the things I always shied away from.

"Why" is my favourite question because it makes you sound interested and inquisitive and is a great way to keep intellectual individuals from knowing that in reality, you have no idea what's going on. 

It is also the question before all answers. At the end of any deconstructive, analytical or systematic process must undoubtedly be a "why". There is and always will be a purpose behind an action, a statement, a result or refusal. 

Humans are still mammals.

Our meat suits are powered by instincts [to eat and fuck] but they have started walking up right and wearing clothes and now they also do things like tinker with technology, wage wars and debate democracy. 

We are instinctually innovating social constructs our suits cannot compute and as a result we are seeing physical and chemical imbalances our mammal minds don't deal well with.

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Plus I come from a whole clan of crazy and have been ready for my own cerebral satanic salsa with serotonin since my first sexual attraction, which was to the 1995 computer generated version of Casper the Friendly Ghost (and my first public panic attack was when he anthropomorphized). 

Weird wiring, a squiggly spine, femoral fuckery and genetic compromise comprise this creature. 

[aka me]

Whatever stupid suprematist started the racial idea that "white is right" did not REALLY understand or emphasize the proper parts of eugenics or gene pool diversity. 

 I have relatives on this list. 

I have relatives on this list. 

This post has been in progress for almost 4 months and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't finish it.

And then I realized the unfortunate reality that it feels like I can't finish this because none of this feels like the "end"; this is just the beginning of being bi. Though the label feels like a finite end to uncertainty, it's the detonator of decision and direction.

Now I know. So now I have to act with that knowledge.

I have answers to so many "whys".

Why has it always been hard to socialize and communicate, even when I wanted to?

Why is it so hard to focus while simultaneously obsessing over the same thing?

Why has it felt impossible to emote and so easy to rage or cry?

Why can't I think about anything while simultaneously thinking about everything?

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Bipolar isn't my only internal why, but it has always been one of them. And now that question has been answered.

Next Question: "What Now?" 

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Attempt at an Answer:

Mediate, medicate & manage.
Through structure, system and support.
With workouts, weed and women.

Join me, won't you?

 Photography by Ever Photography

Photography by Ever Photography

Taylor Oakes