Being Bipolar isn't EASY

and the Art of Slowing it Down

a BLIND date

I was set up! A hairdresser that I had been to several times really didn’t listen to me… she was a BAD hair dresser. I took my friend to her one weekend so that she could get her hair styled for her wedding. I took her for the trial run… Weeks later, the day of my friend’s wedding; I went alone to get my hair styled. (My friend had found someone else.) The hair dresser (I forget her name but recall that she was Russian also styled the hair of some very prominent republican politician’s wives) thought it was ME that was getting married!?!?

I tried to deny it when she asked but when she pushed, I played along. She asked me about the man who I was marrying, where we were going to live, what I was going to wear and what color flowers we should put in my hair. I felt self-conscious about lying; as she also managed to talk one of her co-workers into doing my make-up for FREE. (I had never had my make-up done by anyone else.)

Nonetheless, on my drive to my good friend & neighbor’s wedding, in a rainbow printed dress with PURPLE flowers in my hair, it was clear in MY head that it wasn’t ME that was getting married. But that didn’t last long, upon arrival I saw a painting in a gallery; it was a hunting scene and MY prince charming on a horse in a RED coat. Many other events over the course of several months led up to this event but during the wedding, I imagined that my sweetheart was on the other side of the fence (my friend’s wedding was in a very nice private garden in a cottage at The Inn at Little Washington) and I imagined that I was marrying my long-lost love?!?!

I was careful not to drink too much champagne at the reception and left the party early as I was completely exhausted and completely psychotic; I do not know how I didn’t crash as I raced to get back to Dupont to meet my best friend from New York, at a comedy show. (More about that show later… in another post.)

On the way to the comedy show, in the circle (imagine of all places), an East-Indian man sitting on a park bench greeted ME. (Somehow this relates to something that the hairdresser said but without my diaries I cannot remember what. It was in a discussion about Astrology &/or Yoga that she mentioned that I deserved a good man.) He asked what I did that day and I told him that… “I got married”. Within minutes, I couldn’t continue the lie, I told him that I was mentally ill and was just pretending. I hope I apologized for lying.

Worried about ME, he asked to meet me in the same place the next day. And so I did, the next day at TWO, after another reception, I laid in the grass, close to the same place that I met the man the night before, with my left hand over my heart (ring finger) and right hand on my belly (keep center). You yogi’s know that’s the opposite way that one is trained but leave it to me to put my own twist in things!

If he saw me, he didn’t disturb me – perhaps he & his cohort’s thought that I could sleep it off. If only I could just sleep it off.

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