“Heeeeeere comes Rusty!”

That’s the announcer at the local kennel club when a race starts. Rusty is steel rabbit on an electric track just above and in front of the greyhounds that zips ahead of the muzzled pack. The dogs don’t know why they chase Rusty. They just do.

I don’t know why I chase Rusty. I just do. Rusty can be anything in my life: A drink; a man; a raise; a flat tummy. Chasing Rusty is not good. I sprint through my life – wild eyed and out of breath – chasing Rusty. I got to thinking about Rusty this morning.

I joined a group of triathletes at the beach early this morning. I have been a competitive swimmer since I was 7 years old. I gave it up years ago and haven’t swum a lap in a couple of years. But I went to the beach this morning telling myself it was time to get back into the water – just a nice leisurely swim.

Damn, out popped Rusty – the lead swimmer was a guy at least 10 years younger than me. No matter, I had to chase. I couldn’t go for a leisurely swim as the sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean. I had to chase. What am I chasing? Why am I chasing?

I came home from the beach and took “Dog” to the pond – our morning routine. Dog runs in front of my bike, taking minor detours to chase a squirrel up a tree. There are a lot of squirrels at the pond and they have always run faster than “Dog”. Until today. Dog finally caught a squirrel. I turned around and watched his head thrashing back and forth with a mouth full of fur. By the time I got to him the squirrel was dead. “Dog” just stood there not knowing what to do. He chased the squirrel. He caught the squirrel. Now what?

Exactly. When you are bipolar you don’t ask “why?” You just go. You don’t need a reason anymore than the greyhounds need a reason to chase Rusty. You just go. If you are also an alcoholic – dual diagnosed – you don’t ask why you need to drink. You just drink. It is the way life is. You go, and then you drink. You go, and then you drink…

God help you if you ever catch and kill Rusty. Unlike “Dog”, who shrugs his little dog shoulders and trots off looking for another squirrel, it is not so easy for us bipolar humans. When you have killed enough squirrels, you finally ask, “My God, what have I done?” Then you swan dive into a bottomless black hole of guilt, disgust, remorse and self-loathing and pour yourself a drink or three or nine.

I thought I had gotten rid of the Rustys in my life. With all the therapy, sobriety, medications, prayers, healthy eating and sound sleeping I thought Rusty was gone for good. Until this morning, as I chased down the young guy swimming in front of me. I missed a school of fish and a bikini on the bottom that the swimmers, who know ho to enjoy a morning swim, caught sight of.

At least today I can see myself chasing Rusty. I know when I am chasing. I guess that’s progress, right? Being aware of this feeling and energy. So, I am making progress, right? They say awareness is the first step to changing a behavior or character defect. Today, I am definitely aware. Very aware.

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From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (June 7, 2009)

    Last reviewed: 7 Jun 2009