A couple of days ago, I wrote a post entitled Accept Hope. For me, it wasnt something difficult or hard, because the very concept, words and thoughts in that post had been spoken and thought about for a long time. It just felt like it was the right time to write it.

You see, Doing The Right Thing, is something I fundamentally believe in. Its a concept that truly changed my life.

I have been going through a process of decision making this week. These decisions, both personal and professional, have been looming for quite awhile. I have learned over the past couple of years, that taking a moment to step back and review the decisions you are making, going to make and have made is good practice. I take all those decisions and I place them against my beliefs and ideals, and the wrong ones really EXPLODE and the right ones just fit.

After making my second big decision, I tweeted:

Soon after I got a dm from a friend that said: “I thought the right choice wasnt a choice at all.”

I responded with: “it’s always a choice. That’s why people fuck up.”

You see its the choosing where the mistakes are made, not the choices themselves. The choices are just that, choices. The rest is free will.

It truly amazes me to watch people continually make bad choices, even why they KNOW the right thing, and then justify the choice as lacking of free will.

When I wrote the post about how my bi-polar and the actions I chose in part because of it, and in part in spite of it, and where those actions brought me, I was just writing something I needed–wanted–to say. Mostly, because I have learned that, for me, writing is cathartic. (Remember, my first rule of blogging, is that I write for me. I assume no one is reading.)

What I didnt expect was the flood of positive response. It floored me. After all, I was just writing about me.

It was the reactions that made me think. Made me wonder why so many people consider me brave, when I am just doing what I feel is right. Why people use words like inspiration and impressed, when I know me, and I am a pretty big fuck up. It is honestly something that I am very uncomfortable with, but have to accept, because its just how people view me. Me? I can just be me.

I started writing this post with the intent of writing about how I dont have an offline and online identity, but I think the truth is that I do. I think most of us do, just some of us have a greater disparity between the identities. Me? I am pretty close to the Real Micah Baldwin offline and online.

I began to wonder why that is. I have heard that for some, their online identities are what they want to be, and for others they want to separate the two. I have spent a lot of time (and money) figuring out who I am, what I am, and what I am to others, and have come to terms with it. Frankly, I kinda like me. So, I have no reason to make the online me different from the offline me. (Even Micah Chic is me. Its the goofball me and its the arrogant me, but its still me.)

I thought I would write my thoughts as to what way is better. Should one be the same person online and offline? Should they be different? I dont know.

I just know that it took me a friggin long time to learn two things: 1) Im a pretty cool cat; and 2) how you view me is your bag, not mine.

Which leaves me, well, with me trying to be the best me. And if in doing that, I gain a bunch of friends that I admire and respect, and more so, that admire and respect themselves and each other, well then…

…I score.

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Today an interesting conversation on twitter broke out among men and women about dating and relationships. Its an topic that has been bouncing around in my brain for some time recently.

Why?

Well, I am 36 years old and single. In Jew years, 36 is the point where I am either on my second marriage, or have kicked out 3 or so kids. Not single. In Jew years, I am the family member that people whisper “Yeah, Micah is not married yet. But look how successful he is! Whats that? No, we are pretty sure he is not gay.”

Some could argue that my pets are like my children. I do have 5 animals, two dogs and three cats.

But I will never beat up Billie’s first boyfriend because he looked at her the wrong way.

I wont get a chance to remind Taylor that even though she is an athlete, boys will still like her.

I wont be able to bail Winston out of jail for joy riding with his friends.

I cant take Calin to get her first bra or buy birth control.

And, I will never be able to show how much I accept Max’s life style or his new boyfriend (I am pretty sure my cat is gay) or see the shock in my grandmother’s face when they visit for the first time.

Most importantly, I continue to get the questions from my mom and grandmother. “Have you met any nice Jewish girls?”

“Yes, mom and grandmom,” I usually reply, “but they just havent met me yet. Right, its called the internet…”

The question that so many people have asked me, is, “why.”

“Why, Micah, I know plenty of women that are interested in you. I know plenty that have asked about you. Have you never had a serious girlfriend? Do you not date? Is there something wrong with you?”

Frankly, yes. Its called a brain defect.

You see, for most of my life, I have existed in one of two states. Manic or Depressed. When Manic, I loved it, but its a self-centered state of motion. You are constantly doing, talking, moving, creating, thinking….

Leaves little room for listening, accepting and all the other things that a relationship needs.

Or Depressed. For me, depression means: irritability, paranoia and lethargy.

Really great qualities for a relationship.

So early on, I gave up on the possibility of a relationship. Stopped trying, avoided situations and made myself completely unavailable.

That is until 6 months ago or so. Finally after years of self-medication, sobriety and therapy, I conceded to go to a shrink. I was finally ok with admitting that there was something physical wrong with me.

That I was not normal.

That I was broken.

That I was finally tired of trying on my own.

That if there was a pill or series of pills I could take to stop the mood cycles, I would do it.

So I went to a shrink. He spent an hour asking me questions, and at the end of the conversation. He said, “You have all the symptoms and signs of classic bi-polar II, or soft bi-polar.”

He spent another 30 minutes or so explaining what that meant. And he handing me a prescription.

I left his office and called my mom. I told her what the doctor said. And I cried.

The weight of 36 years of personal control of my feelings and moods slowly lifted, and it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I knew, just knew, that the doctor was right, and there was a light at the end of my tunnel.

Over the next six months, I continued to visit the shrink every couple of weeks, and a therapist weekly. I learned more about my disease, read a book called Why Am I Still Depressed? By Jim Phelps, which was like watching a film of my life and behaviors.

Each time I learned something new, I felt the need to be in complete control lift just a bit.

Then in about April or so, I decided I was ready to be open to others.

And while I am not married, or even seriously dating anyone, I am learning a ton. My sister said to me the other day, “Micah, its like you are smashing 36 years of emotional growth into 6 months. You are learning quickly, but its still about experiences.”

I think thats right. Education is not just thinking and learning, but its experiencing. Im working on that part where I can (its not like I can grab women off the street, exclaim “date me! I need the experience!” Although, sometimes that would make it easier….)

Instead, I ask lots of questions. (It seems to be safer, and less likely to bring restraining orders and police.)

Instead, I put myself out there.

Instead, I am allowing myself to be open to the possibilities, to accept hope and be vulnerable to the pain.

Instead, I refuse to go back to the comfortable life of throwing myself into my work, and allowing people to be superficially friends with me.

Instead, I write this blog, and tell the world, “this is me.”

And, I kinda like me.

Now I am accepting hope. The hope that one day, my mom will no longer be asking me if I have met any nice women, but rather will just telling me about how worried she is about my weight.

Oh, that will be a nice day.

#1 Fashion Icon on Google

Thats right folks. I am starting a new quest. I have dominated the world of the Douche Bag, and I have decided to move on.

What next mountain should I climb? What world can I dominate? The choices are endless, but the quest is clear.

I will be the #1 Fashion Icon on Google.

Dont believe me? Check out Micah Chic. Where Pink and Maroon never mix, but t-shirts, flip flops and shorts always do.

Its a trend. Its a movement. Its Micah Chic.

Tell your friends. Its time to help me in my quest. Its time to dominate once again.

The #1 Fashion Icon on Google. Think I can do it?