Observations

I have an issue. I mean, we all have issues, but I don't know how to fix mine. 

I am bipolar. 

I am bipolar, but being bipolar is not the issue. 

I have major chronic depression and extreme general anxiety. 

I have major chronic depression and extreme general anxiety, but being depressed and anxious isn't the issue. 

I come from a broken family. 

I come from a broken family, but having a broken heart isn't the issue. 


My issue is that on top of all of these things, I take in the world's hatred, unfairness, and judgement. 
I take in the world with my heart, with my head, with my toes and my arms and my shoulders. 
I take in the world as if all of these things are happening to me. I take in the world personally offended. I take it in and feel all of the pain. I take in the world and immediately hit the downside to being bipolar, depressed, anxious, and broken and don't know how to function or fix it. 

I sit in the Union on my college campus and from the barstools and counters I look over the sea of people and observe. 

First, I notice a white man who is overweight. I notice he has glasses. I notice he has a scraggly beard. I notice he doesn't have a wedding ring. I notice he is probably in his late forties. I immediately feel bad for him. I immediately wish that his life would get better soon and that people would stop making him feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help.

Then, I notice the black man with sagging pants. I notice he is about my age, a young adult just starting off on his own in the world. I notice that he looks angry. I notice that he is sitting alone. I notice people walk by and move over a few steps to avoid getting to close. I immediately feel bad for him. I immediatley wish that his life would get better soon and that people would stop making him feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help.

Finally, I notice a white elderly woman. I notice that she is getting an education late in her life. I notice that she is the only one of her age around the entire commons. I notice that her clothes are outdated. I notice that her phone is outdated. I notice that no one is talking to her. I notice that she is brittle and probably colder and more sore than others when she walks across campus. I immediately feel bad for her. I immediately wish that her life would get better soon and that people would stop making him feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help. 

I notice me. I notice myself sitting above everyone, by myself. I notice myself crying because I am noticing all of these people that I feel bad about. I notice people looking at me because I am crying. I notice that my hair is a mess. I notice that I am a biracial woman. I notice that I am eating a lot. I notice that I have been here all day, in the same spot. I notice all of my clothes are from goodwill. I immediately wish that my life would get better soon and that people would stop making me feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help.

I notice that the exact hatred, unfairness, and judgement that I hate from the world is coming from the one person I thought wouldn't ever engage in these elements of life. I notice that I am the asshole. I am the one who makes people feel bad. The fact that I would notice all of these things, judge all of these things, assume these people's lives suck, and assume that people are mean to them or make them feel isolated because of these things makes me the asshole. 

I cry. 
I cry for the people. 
I cry because these people's lives must be horrible. 
I cry because these people must hate themselves and wish they could change.
I cry because I would assume all of these things.
I cry because I am the asshole.
I cry some more.
I'm crying a lot. 
It's okay, I cry all the time. 

What do I do? How do I feel better about the world? How do I stop feeling bad for everyone? How do I see that there is more than just pain in the world. How do I notice the people being wonderful and caring. How do I stop taking in all of my assumptions of an awful world that make me feel bad about myself, the people that I see, and the people that I imagine. How do I stop being the asshole? 

I am bipolar. Sometimes I am so happy and feel like life is good. Sometimes, I have hope. Sometimes I have motivation. Sometimes I laugh and love who I am. 
I am bipolar, I am depressed, and I am anxious. Sometimes I hate everyone around me. Sometimes I don't find anything funny. Sometimes I want to stay in bed all day. Sometimes I hate the music that is playing. Sometimes all the hatred in the world gets sucked into my heart, my head, my stomach, my elbows, and my ears. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I cry a lot. Most of the time, I cry. 

I am broken. I notice my family. I notice that my dad is an elderly black man. I notice that he has ragged clothes. I notice he wears the same pants four days a week. I notice that he is sick. I notice that people must avoid him because he is one of the only minorities in the town. I notice I have his truck and I take his money and his daughter is awful. I notice his son lives half way across the country. I notice his life must be terrible. I immediately wish that his life would get better soon and that people would stop making him feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help. 

I am broken. I notice my family. I notice my mother is disabled single mother. I notice that her only companion is her dog. I notice that her daughter puts all her troubles on her shoulders. I notice that her daughter is far away. I notice that her house is small and cluttered. I notice that she walks funny. I notice that her hair is messy. I notice that she must have a hard time living on her own. I notice that she has very little money. I notice that she must hate her life. I notice that she must be depressed. I immediately wish that her life would get better soon and that people would stop making her feel judged and uncomfortable. I want to help.

I notice that I am the judgement. I notice that I am embarrased by my parents unneccessarily. I notice that I judge my parents more than anyone else. I notice that I am not a good daughter. I notice that I take them for granted. I notice that the pain in their lives doesn't come from others judgement or from their own decisions, actions, and consequences, but from me. I notice that I am a big contributor to the brokenness. 

I don't know what to do. 
I don't know how to change the world. 
I don't know how to change myself.

I do know that I would like to stop crying now.