Every now and then, I convince myself that I don’t have bipolar, or a drinking problem. All evidence to the contrary is lost in a whirlwind of self-anger, whereby I persuade myself that there is nothing wrong with me and that I just seem to fit in with people with bipolar, or drinking problems, and am only there as a sort of tourist, like the guy in Fight Club who goes to every self-help meeting because he cannot sleep. In the past, I have even tried to convince myself that I’m not a lesbian, and only think I am because I like the community (never mind that I don’t have any sexual feelings towards men, and enjoy sleeping with women). Everything I am, I try to convince myself I am not, in some misguided attempt to persuade myself that anything different or difficult about me is a lie, something I do just to feel a sense of belonging somewhere. Before you know it, I’ll have convinced myself I’m not mixed race!
I don’t know why I do this. It isn’t outright denial- I don’t have any hang-ups about being gay, I am not ashamed of having bipolar- it’s some kind of self-destructive urge to isolate myself from people who share similar situations with me. As though I wasn’t worth the belonging that comes from being around people who are like me. As though I had taken in the words attention seeker and glued them all around my insides like Wanted posters. I even tell friends: I don’t have bipolar. I don’t have a drinking problem. I don’t. Am I waiting for some kind of validation? And if so, which kind? What am I up to? I don’t have answers to these questions but I will try, as I am trying with other things lately, to unfold and discover.