Current Columns

Fans' Favorite Five

Columns by Subject

www.livingthelifeofholly.com
Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
Letting Her Brain Out To Play

“You promise I won’t scare you if I fall into it?” She asked.

“Not at all.”

“You sure? I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I can handle it. I promise.”

“I’m worried about it. Holly. It’s extreme. I’m intense when I’m manic.”

I laughed. “Let’s take my car.”

She wasn’t kidding. Only. I don't know if I'd call it intense. I’d call it something closer to wild. She was clearly drumming to a different beat.

We had gone to hear the Latin band, Cubanismo. They were playing pulsating Cuban music that was best for dancing and swirling. Cheryl pulled me through the club till we were on the dance floor directly in front of the stage. Ok. Great. At least we'd be able to see the band, right?

I had known Cheryl for years and had seen her cycle in and out of her Bi-Polar disorder. She was currently caught in the height of her mania. She didn’t often let her friends see her like this. I kept assuring her over and over again that I could handle it. I’m a special education teacher. I have my own brain injury going on. You know. Car accident. Epilepsy. What made her worry that I couldn’t understand hers?

She was dancing in front of me. She was totally focused on the band. I’d never seen anyone move the way she moved. Her body was nothing less than alive as it expressed its Bi-Polar disorder’s highest state through the music. She loved dancing when she was manic. This was her way of letting her brain out to play.

I had a job. Sure. I got to dance and have fun. But. My job was to bat away the men.

“No. Thanks. Go away.”

He stood there. “I gotta dance with her.”

“Not tonight.” I said, big sister style. She wanted to dance with nobody bothering her. No men. Nobody getting into her space. If she were a big, ugly woman, maybe that would be easy. But. She was way too cute. And her body was gyrating all the wrong ways. Men continued to flock.

I’d shake my head and push them back. “She’s not looking. Thanks anyway.”

They’d shrug and move away.

It was the intensity of her dance that was the most surprising. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume she was drunk or on drugs. But. I’d spent the evening with her. She’d made dinner. Broiled fish and salad. She was clean. The only thing she was flying on was her own brain chemistry. It was truly amazing to watch.

And her doctors had talked her into medicating her high this cycle. It was her first mania in two years and they had talked her into dampening it. That’s not an easy decision. To turn down your good mood. But. She agreed. Her dream was to have a more even mood schedule, so she didn’t have to suffer through two years of sleeping fifteen hours a day, then have four months of no sleep.

But. Bi-Polar isn’t a choice. It’s a mandate given out by one’s brain. She had to quit teaching several years ago and almost passed her disability hearing which would have given her some Social Security benefits. But. The court found that even with her need to sleep fifteen hours a day there were two jobs that she COULD do part time.

Two jobs. Imagine that. Two jobs. One was a laundry attendant in a Laundromat. The other was a cafeteria food server in a hospital. If they can find even one job for you to do anywhere in your state, you’re not disabled.

She found a way part time job teaching and with her family’s subsidy she is able to live. She does yoga, hikes in the mountains, eats organic food and keeps a low stress life. She has truly learned to accept her disability.

I watched her dance as the hours passed. She didn’t tire. She didn’t look to meet other people. She was in her own world. The band noticed her. They played for her. They played to her. They sang to her. She didn’t notice.

They taught us how to do a Mambo. One foot out, opposite arm up. Other foot out, other arm up. We all looked a bit like Frankenstein dancing. Except Cheryl. She could do the Mambo and look nothing like a dead monster. People on the dance floor were crowding around her to watch.

She mimicked each instrument as it played. She watched the dancers on the stage and took quick lessons from them, then upped their movements to a frenzy. The dancers on the stage started taking cues from her. The dancers on the floor were trying to copy her. She didn’t notice. She was in her own world. This was her connection. Her way.

At the end of the night the lead singer started pointing to women in the crowd who would be invited to hang with the band backstage. I froze. Oh. Oh no. Not us. No. I was tired. I wanted to go home.

He pointed to me. I shook my head in polite “no thanks” mode. He tried to get Cheryl’s attention, but she was in her own world. I waved to him. I shook my head ‘no’ for her. He shook his head ‘yes’ and tried again. Oh. Man. What if she wanted to go? I hate hanging with bands after shows. They’re all sweaty and smelly and full of themselves. Um. No thanks.

He sang while he made repeating pointing motions towards her. She was swirling and moving in every direction, but not looking at him. He looked at me. I shook my head ‘no’ again and pointed towards some young women dancing next to us. They cheered when he looked at them and flashed their chests. He smiled.

He looked back at Cheryl. She was hot. He turned to me. I shook my head. No. No. No. He looked at the girls. He had to decide and he didn’t have much time. They called him over to their side of the stage and one gave him a long, hot kiss. He looked over to me. I smiled, encouragingly and nodded towards the younger girls. Yes. A much better choice.

The music stopped.

Cheryl stopped. “Man.” She said. “Used to be that the band would have invited me backstage.”

I laughed. “They tried, girl. Sorry. I didn’t want to go. I turned them down for you.”

“GOOD.” She laughed. “I’m tired. My feet hurt. I’m too old for this. Let’s get out of here.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re tired. More like you’re just warming up.”

“I know.” She laughed. “My brain could play all night. But my body’s tired. Tonight my body wins.”

Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.)

Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me.

Comment on this column in The Forum

Or

Send Holly your comments. Tell her what you really think! Your comments might be published on her website, or in her weekly Yahoo Group e-mail. Send Comments

Wanna vote for your favorite column? Fan's favorite column picks will be added to the Fan's Favorite Five page. Send your pick for your favorite here. Fan's Favorite Column Pick

Copyright © 2003 by Holly Winter
www.livingthelifeofholly.com
All Rights Reserved