Bipolar female alternative comic Maria Bamford has a new Netflix series called Lady Dynamite, and it is spectacular. I have just finished watching the first season and, for the first time since I've been Netflixing, I want to start the season over and watch it again.
I have always been a fan of Bamford's since I was living in L.A. and supporting my stand-up comedian friends by going to their shows. I saw her in intimate settings once or twice, playing to small rooms with the same intensity that she always gives. Very few performers give what she can give on stage. The same goes for her TV show: it's adventurous and hilarious and surreal and even touching without being too cute or cliched.
Mostly, though, the show has hit me in a way I didn't expect, because it premiered almost exactly a week after I told a friend (via e-mail) that I was done being her friend. My exact words were: "I must be a fool for trying to be your friend. I will no longer annoy you so you can rest easy. Farewell."
(OK, those weren't my exact words, but they were similar...)
This friend, whom I will name Summer simply because it's the first fake name I could think of, is bipolar like Maria Bamford... I believe Bamford is technically Bipolar Type II, but I'm not sure if that is the case with Summer or not. All I know is that I am not mad at her, and I feel so crappy for de-friending her in real life (she doesn't have a Facebook profile, or at least not one that is actively attended to) but it was so discouraging for me to try and communicate with her when she was in one of her moods...
A selfish move on my part, I know. There is no rationale, no excuse. I am a human being, and even though I know she is not 100% in control of her behavior, it was hurting me to try and keep up a friendship with someone who cannot really reciprocate friendship in the fashion I seek. I admit, I wanted her to text me back, to call me out of the blue just to talk, to make plans and not break them, to make plans at all, to be the first to communicate anything to me instead of the other way around...
I guess I've had some pretty bad, one-way relationships with people who probably were bipolar but didn't know it, or had some other sort of mental illness that went undiagnosed, or perhaps they were normal but complete assholes all the same... in any event, those relationships damaged me far more than I could have ever imagined, because I can't deal with someone who does not meet me halfway. The day I ended things with Summer was uneventful; I was in a good mood. I sent her a text to wish her a good morning, knowing that she'd been down in the dumps lately, not really returning my messages or taking my calls. After I sent the text I looked at the thread of previous texts that I had sent to her and saw that none of them had been replied to in over a week, and the last time she had sent me any type of message was to tell me she wasn't up for something I had planned for us.
So something in me just kind of snapped, and I sent her my goodbye text. Then I turned off my phone and went to work. Within minutes the phone at my work was ringing and Summer was on the line, trying to talk to me. I told my co-worker to tell her I was busy, which was kind of true. But I never called back, and I didn't turn my phone on until the next day. She tried again the following afternoon, but I was working and I didn't call her back once again. Since then she has not tried to reach me at all.
The difference between my behavior and her behavior, of course, is that I am not bipolar. I often think I am, but I am not. I don't think I am even close. I'm just an insecure person who hates being made to feel foolish for caring. Summer, on the other hand, doesn't return calls or talk to people because she is mentally ill. And I tried to understand it but apparently it is beyond my understanding. I guess I am a bad person. I suppose I am the one who is really fucked up in this situation.
But I couldn't help the way I felt. For the past 6 months I felt so bad, so alone, so unloved. I know Summer doesn't feel for me the way I do about her, and I couldn't make her love me. I couldn't make her care. I couldn't, and she couldn't. Maybe she tried. Maybe she wanted to like me, or perhaps even love me, but she just couldn't do it. I don't know. Maybe she is happier knowing that I won't bother her anymore, and if I were to break my silence and call her again it would just be the same thing over and over, endlessly repeating.
So watching Lady Dynamite is like still being friends with Summer, in a sick and weird way. I get to laugh and have adventures with the crazy cool girl that everyone likes, without any of the baggage. Great deal, right?
So why do I want to break down and text Summer and ask her to watch this show with me, or call her up in the middle of the night and wake her up just to tell her I am sorry for being so selfish, even though she asks NOTHING of me?
In short, who is the person with the real problem? Sure, Summer may be diagnosed, but maybe I am the one who needs help. At least she knows what she is, and like Bamford, she is moving forward. Meanwhile, I'm still stuck on things that happened weeks ago.
I think I'll watch Lady Dynamite again, maybe I'll learn something for once in my life.
