the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
There is something about dimples that appeals to me. I’m not referring to chin dimples or the Dimples of Venus (which are above the butt). They are cheek dimples. They are damn cute on babies, even adults. These are dimples surrounding a smile, like . I’ve been jealous of them since I can remember.
Cheek dimples are passed down as a dominant trait, which can be modified by other genes. They can come and go during one’s lifetime. Yet these cute little buggers defined as facial deformities. Dimples are the result of shortened and divided muscles in the face. Some folks go as far as to either remove the dimples or put them in, adding to the list of ways plastic surgeons can alter our faces.
But why get rid of them? Yes, they are technically imperfections, dimples are a part of the whole person. They are what they are, like other imperfections and delineations we all carry with us in our lives. Some are genetic, some are from living out our lives. Whether external or internal, they are what we are that makes WHO we are.
My internal ‘deal with’ includes bipolar 2. I manage it with medications and behavior modification. This is not to say, “Oh, now it is all better and everything is back to normal.” It is who I am and sometimes I have to live with the failure of my two treatment strategies. It can be a trigger, for example, from a family post (as it was last week) or tiredness. It happens, I deal. I work on moving on.
I’m better today, after some much needed sleep a day away from work and a trip to the shooting range with friends with a cookout after. And each time I pull myself out of these 3-4 day to 1.5 week black dog visits, the methods are often different. I’m just glad this one is over.
Take care. You are you. It’s all good.