I'm your everyday Jane Doe, but there's a tiny twist: my life feels like living inside a Rubik's cube.
Now, don't go picturing me trapped inside a multicolored, six-sided plastic toy. I'm talking about my experiences with bipolar disorder, a maze of emotions, as unpredictable and baffling as the ever-changing faces of a Rubik's cube.
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| Photo by Pavel Danilyuk: https://www.pexels.com/photo/3-x-3-rubiks-cube-7776189/ |
It’s a wild ride. The highs are like finally getting one face of the cube to match, while the lows feel like a frustrated scramble—colors clashing, no harmony in sight. All the while, you're pretty sure that the five-year-old next door can solve the thing blindfolded. Hilarious, isn't it?
I've noticed people prefer checkers to Rubik's cubes. Checkers are straightforward, while Rubik's cubes? Well, they are perplexing, like my sudden mood swings at a karaoke night. I mean, one moment I’m belting out "I Will Survive," the next, I’m bawling my eyes out to "Someone Like You." Sure, it's pretty funny...until the laughter fades, and you’re left feeling like a stand-up comedian who's forgotten the punch line.
For years, I tried to ‘solve’ myself, twisting and turning my emotions, trying to align them into a socially acceptable pattern. But in doing so, I ended up feeling more jumbled, like a Rubik's cube scrambled by a curious, impatient toddler.
Until one day, I had an epiphany, right in the middle of a laughing-crying episode at a Taco Bell, no less. Here I was, a Rubik’s cube living in a world of checkers, trying to change my colors, when I didn’t need to. I didn't need to solve myself. I needed to understand myself.
Understanding my bipolar disorder, my Rubik's cube, hasn't been a walk in the park. It's been an uphill battle, filled with therapy appointments, self-doubt, and countless tubs of ice cream. But with every step, I've learned to decipher my moods, to embrace the unpredictable patterns they form.
So here’s the funny part. The more I began to understand my Rubik's cube, the more I realized others started to as well. They no longer saw me as a complex puzzle, but as someone with a vibrant, albeit unpredictable, emotional landscape. They started to appreciate my unique colors, my technicolor life.
I’m not going to lie. Living as an unsolved Rubik's cube in a world that prefers simple games can be exhausting. Some days, I still feel trapped within the twisting chaos. But then I remind myself that even an unsolved Rubik's cube is beautiful. It's an array of colors, an emblem of life's complexities and intricacies.
Now, as I feel a tear trickle down, not from a mood swing, but from acceptance, I realize I'm not a code to crack. I am an expedition of self-discovery, resilience, and courage. I am a woman embracing the vibrant chaos of her life. I am a woman, living inside a bipolar Rubik's cube, and today, I wouldn't wish to be part of a simpler game.
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