Spotlight on Symptoms: Obsession.

I've always been obsessive. As a preteen, I spent hours listening to showtunes, planning plays (most of which never happened), and watching the same movies over and over. I did almost nothing in moderation. I went wild for Irish step dance. I had a semi-dark longing to be an actor. I lost my mind over Titanic. I had an intense Harriet the Spy phase.

I've sometimes tries to disconnect the wires of obsession, but I usually just trip over them and fall hard. When I'm full-blown manic, obsessions take on a sharp edge and can be maddening.

Phantom and Sunset Boulevard were two of my strongest obsessions. The music made me feel a kind of pain and a joy of internal freedom. It cracked me open.

Some other obsessions have included stickers, conjoined and parasitic twins, American Horror Story, swimming, water in all forms, certain celebrities (currently, Ben Platt), Fun Home, makeup (recurring!), Betsey Johnson necklaces, texting Bruce (a million times a day for years!), and simply being Bruce's friend (quite complicated and difficult for me until fairly recently).

I made full use of Google and YouTube for all this, pursuing hard. It can be both exhilarating and exhausting. It takes up a lot of time and sometimes money. I try to determine what is fine or good and what is unhealthy. Mania, even traces of it, creates energy that must latch onto something.

Right now, I'm obsessed with Dear Evan Hansen and anything related to it. Though I have been a little manic lately, this obsession mostly just asks for time. It makes me happy, so we're letting it be.

As I grew up, I tried to avoid past and new obsessions because they overwhelmed me. But I'm trying to be open again. So I try to surround myself with what is beautiful and healing in the hopes that my next obsession will be a positive one (even if it's weird).

Resistance.

I often feel resistant to what I love. As a young child, I was fully devoted and connected to my obsessions: musical theatre, acting, American Girl stories and accessories, Babysitters Club books, and my favorite movies such as Anne of Green Gables. I played with my antiques, dressing up and packing my little red trunk with antique school books, slate pencils, and more for my imaginary train journey. I had no shame. I subjected my friends to wild play pans, long sessions of listening to showtunes, and dressing up with varying degrees of historical accuracy. I wept in the backseat of the car while listening to Sunset Boulevard with headphones.

At some point, I either became a little embarrassed (this was around the time we moved from Nashville to Charlotte) about my obsessions, I got distracted (Irish Step dancing, a few crushes), or (most likely) I didn't feel capable of managing the way I felt. I side-stepped what had enchanted me most. My response was too intense--at least, I thought it would be.

Now, I have three different recordings of Phantom on my iPod. My main Spotify playlist is full of showtunes. I'm re-reading American Girl stories. I've been looking for movies and TV shows that engage me deeply. I'm trying not to hold a shield up against what could help me live more fully. I can handle it.

Fighting Indifference.

Apathy at least has something behind it, some rage, usually. But indifference has no substance. It's like powder tossed in the wind; it's nothing until it chokes you or stings your eyes. To me, indifference is dangerous. When I look at a stack of books and feel nothing, I know I have to get back to reading somehow. I was there for most of last year, and getting this far back in the right direction has taken determination, patience, and practice.

Sometimes, I feel indifferent about food, and I eat less and less. Sometimes, I feel indifferent about the way I look, and I don't put on makeup (I also can't engage in the fun of it). Any time indifference stretches its shadow over me, I know I have to do something, to escape.

With bipolar disorder, I often feel extreme, obsessive interest (mania) or apathy and despair (depression). So when my mood cycles reach a slump, indifference settles in. It's probably a way for me to rest between extremes, but it's not healthy either. I prefer the obsessions as long as the objects are books, writing, musical theatre, or something fairly healthy and actually me. 

I will fight indifference every day. I want to be engaged.