When Dark Times Take Over, You're Not Alone

Living with Bipolar II, I have times when I bow out of socializing and will isolate. During these times, my interaction with people can be minimal, and my exchanges with others are restricted to necessity. For the most part, I stay local as much as possible and end up frequenting the same places where I can get my basic needs.

Source: Erica Loberg

I have to go to the pharmacy across the street to get my medication, so that’s on the list. I don’t have it in me to drive to Target and shop for toiletries, so end up buying most of my bathroom and kitchen needs and anything else I can get at the pharmacy. It almost becomes one of my only chances to engage with others, spanning from employees that stock the shelves, or the security guard at the front of the door. Although I have to force myself to get there, it does bring me brief moments of happiness and takes me out of my reclusive behavior. Even though employees may come and go, there are some with whom I'm able to forge relationships beyond a customer-employee dynamic.

Take Miguel, for example.

Miguel is a 20-something-year-old employee who works at the store and whom I have been friendly acquaintances with over the past several months. I would often have random conversations with him when I would check out my items at the register, and managed to build a rapport and sense of familiarity with him.

Earlier this year, during Lent, I decided I was going to try not to overly indulge in Canterbury chocolate eggs. Since I knew I would need someone to help keep me in line, I enlisted Miguel at my local CVS. I asked him to not allow me to buy any of those chocolate eggs, and for the duration of Lent when he was at the register, I would show him my basket void of eggs. It was such a trite exchange, but it worked.

Recently, I was getting checked out at the register by Miguel and a transient woman walked up and stood beside me. Miguel asked the lady to go back in line, yet she remained standing, facing me, and refused to move. I told Miguel not to worry about it as he continued to bag my items, and the security guard walked over to escort her back in line. When Miguel handed me my bag, I said I didn’t know what just happened. He replied, “People like you.”

I immediately burst out laughing at his response, as he stood there in all seriousness and honesty. I exited the building, and when I walked home, I thought about what he had said. It wasn’t what he said exactly, but how he'd said it. It was almost like he was saying, “People like you, don’t you know that?”

When I am in a bad place, I don’t like myself very much. I found myself thinking, "Yeah, I guess people like me, but what made him say that? Do I come across as someone who thinks they don’t like themselves? How did he know that I was struggling? I guess I wasn’t my usual bouncy self running around the store trying to avoid the Canterbury egg section." It was a luminous tiny moment, and my response of laughter magnified layers that may have connoted that, at times like these, my struggle to like myself showed.

Sometimes it takes an outsider looking in to put a mirror up to your face and force you to think about why people say the things that they do, and more importantly, how they deliver it. Miguel’s words have stuck with me even today. They are a reminder that during tough times, when I am alone, I do have others out there in my community who don’t judge me nearly as critically as I do myself.

You never really know who is out there reminding you of your self-worth. When I am in a dark place, I might not do such a good job of liking myself, but it’s nice to know I can be aware of those feelings, and work toward better loving myself.

When Lent 2024 comes around and Miguel is off out in the world, I will be filling my basket with Canterbury chocolate eggs with a smile, and the memory of Miguel’s insight.