Manic Episode

After our semi-exciting drive on the Icy roads in the ghetto, we semi-drift into my sister’s HUD home. I look into his dreamy eyes and feel an extrinsic amount of love and admiration for him. I feel obsessed. I express to him how much I love him and he looks me dead in the eyes and says, “ I think you’re manic right now.”
My whole body rushes with anxiety as I quickly respond, “Wait, do you think I’m bipolar?! I don’t want to be bipolar. I’ve always thought deep down I was, but never ever wanted to be labeled it.” He laughs as me. This scene will continue to play out through my day.
My mother, also lives with us. It’s hard. Normally, how I show my appreciation to someone who is going through a tough ordeal, I’ll offer all that I can and that is my ability to clean. I couldn’t stop cleaning once I got started. My energy consumed my aurora and I was engulf in tunnel vision cleaning this enormously messy house, but I was motivated to finish it. I barely made a dent in it, but floors that used to be brown, were now white again. I was proud of my accomplishments. I was ready to organize everything. She came home and looked disinterested. She only stayed for a little while then she left.
My instigating husband came upstairs and as if he was plotting something he said, “oh, what did she say?” He towered over me with a grimaced look and said, “did she take off to Nanas?” I told him to stop asking me questions I do not know the answer to.

I was two hours into cleaning when she finally came back. She was in distraught and claimed she’s late on a paper she needs to do and that now she cannot find her things anywhere. Apparently, it’s an organized mess. I told her I was planning on organizing, to no avail. She continued to talk at me indirectly. She sat in the middle of my “dirt” and spoke on the phone about how she’s running behind on her paper. Then she picked up pieces from the pile of rubble and started to throw them into where they’re supposed to go. Of course, she left again. I left the derelict sitting there with all motivation to clean flushed away. No gratitude for working hard. I had planned to create enough room for more family to hang out in the living quarters. Nothing

I sat and imagined a date scene, “ okay, before I marry you, let me clean your moms house…” we offered to clean her home years ago and she backed out on giving us the home, because we cannot clean the chasm. A labyrinth isn’t an ideal home to live it.

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