It's been so long since I have written that I am not sure I still am capable.

Two years ago I was numb. Numb because of death. Grief had barely begun to set in, after the passing of my husband, Dennis. Cancer had ravaged his body and it finally  succumbed.

Grief had already been a daily part of life, the knowledge that the man I loved wasn't going to exist at any moment. I grieved the fact we would never see the sequoias together, no driving to the redwoods to sleep under the stars. We would never get beyond the house except for trips to the hospital, the specialist, no fun day trips, just ones that would extend Dennis' life.

During these past two years oh so many things have occurred. Children grow, leave, come home and then take flight again.

My heart was so heavy, and I was so alone that I chose to be still for awhile, but my heart and soul cried for human contact. I became a victim of facebook. All forms of electronic connection. I didn't want to leave the safety net of the house. I could converse, laugh and write whenever I wanted.

The past 6 months I had readied myself to venture into the world of seeking for a new person to spend my time with. I had missed the closeness and warmth and strength of a man in my life.I took a chance and posted a profile and someone started talking. I wrote back. Several people wrote and I could choose who I connected with.

Then I was glimpsing through the many faces one day- and wham! One man stood out.
So I clicked "like" and the next thing I knew we were talking throughout the day by messages. I bit the line, and hooked onto the hope that I really could feel again. Pleasure. Pain. Happiness.

So we met. What a whirlwind!!! Days without hours, moments without end. It seemed that way. Inseparable. Lost in the flesh, lost in the rush of a new person, the physicality, the touch of another person. Legs entwined while talking, falling asleep nose to nose. I kissed him. I opened myself up to the most intimate and vulnerable me. I should have never kissed him. This means I did, and I fell hard. 

The very first night together was magical. Talking until dawn. Legs entwined, hands clasping. Kissing which had been vacant from my life for 13 years. Just the touch and closeness of being with another person totally evaporated any sense of dread or sorrow. Pillow talk together, noses touching, entwined in each other's arms. In the early morning light I heard, "I don't want to ruin anything, but I have to tell you this. I love you." I should have only heard the words instead of listen.

Escapes to the mountain, bag in hand with a piece of lingerie and little more. Many days spent forgetting about time, place or responsibility. The sheer delight and rush of the initial connection of two people, mentally, physically, and I thought emotionally. Red flags popped up here and there but through my veiled eyes, I didn't see them. Time was of no importance to me, or seemingly him. Just the delight of being in each other's company. The physicality of lust and the ability to realize I still COULD receive pleasure and also give it just fueled the fire for more within me. Deep desire was alive. All the years of sleeping alone, being alone within a relationship had erupted into a wild, insatiable being which could only crave more. I felt alive after so many years of being numb within myself. All thoughts of self preservation were out the window. All inhibition was as well. I should have seen those flags as they were thrown in the distance. I, as others also say, should have put the brakes on and slowed way down. My impulsive self wouldn't be attentive if I would have tried.

Being bipolar means signals are crossed, innuendo is misplaced, and sometimes I just don't hear the reality when I am in my little dreamworld. The depth of feeling was awesome. I could feel my hair and skin grow. The highs were amazing. There were no lows. Another flag, for my own sanity was waving in my face and I brushed it away. I did think of it, and began second guessing, but then tossing that doubt to the wind.

The daily time together, and few hours away from each other just made my head spin more. Drunken with the desire to be needed and wanted I failed to see the reality. 

Things slipped a bit away when the comment was made, " you just need to relax. I could probably get you healthy. You wouldn't even need medication."  For me this means hey take the rough off by going crazy! Stop your medications and see just how bizarre things could become! I am thankful the conscious cricket in my head said no way. 

I had a new hairstyle for a day, and it was requested as a more often item. Then comments about types of clothing. How to do this, how to do that. Always time between the sheets would allay my fears and nigglings. Foolish.

I was manic, spending money I didn't have. Bills were neglected. Then I worried. But I knew time with him would make all the bad things disappear, at least for the time we were together. So I spent more time together, to the point that my true self, Ms. Bipolar showed up. Thinking and over thinking and fretting about things that weren't important. Half of the things I thought were contrived by me, for me only. Doubt. All the insecure ramblings of a dented mind crept into my thoughts. Then affection was not shared as it was before. No hand holding. More like the comfort of old couples who just shared space. I thought it was me, thought I had done wrong, so I kept thinking. I always center my thoughts on my shortcomings, whether real or imagined. It is hard to explain to another person how you feel or think, as they are within oneself, and you cannot show them like a tangible thing.