Patience

I struggle with patience. A traumatic event on top of a sudden increase in awareness is not a recipe for understanding. Being highly analytical is not a recipe for patience. The memory blocks and processing problems make tasks difficult. I'm too eager to engage. I slip into complacency. I look around and I see denial almost everywhere. People dripping with ignorance and yet only too sure of themselves. People with letters engaging in fits of incompetence and then disappointed at the results. Thinking that surely it's not that hard. Thinking that they are special. Thinking that they can see through the issues and fix me. It's not that it amuses me to see them fail or even that I want them to fail. I'm just amazed that they are wasting thier energy and engaging in such delusions. They called Prichards the magic maker. Now everyone wants to fix me and no one can. They wonder how I learned to idealize and engage in delusions when they themselves taught me line by line. They wonder if this "Bipolar" simply dropped down from heaven. They don't have the patience to realize that they themselves are human, they themselves make mistakes and fail. They want to demonize me but can't look in the mirror. I wonder why. I could be more patient if they weren't so full of shit themselves. Some of the changes in me are long term. Others are relatively permanent. There is no fixing me. The brain still has plasticity. Let it rest. Don't play with fire. And I will work on thoughts, emotions, and routines. Forget diagnoses. Forget medical solutions. Forget trying to manage me. Leave me be. Give me peace. I'll give you the same. I need quiet. That more then anything.