About
I didn’t go crazy overnight, although that’s how it felt and how it must have looked to anyone who’d been watching. The years that followed were filled with broken dreams and rearranged hopes. I’ve flirted with death, danced with mania and gambled with my sanity. Inspite of all my baby steps to stability, my fireflies of madness raged on.
8 Comments
leave one →
how does bipolar affect you? i am curious to compare. for me it tried to make me a prophet, an apostle, then finally convinced me that i was God the father in human form. things that in retrospect seem silly or ridiculous were certain fact in the midst of my manic episode. i’m curious what others experience. i should add that you write with elegance and clarity. have you applied yourself to writing novels or poetry before. i think you would be good at it.
Steven
In the beginning, I thought that bipolar defined me. My madness and I were one in the same. She controlled my thoughts and my actions. I was utterly powerless under her seduction. And in turn became all to easy to blame everything on her. Looking back I can’t say if I could draw a line between me and my madness. But now I know I do have control over what I do, say, and feel. I do believe I will always suffer with bouts of bipolar, but I do not believe they will smoother me or lure me into submission again.
Hi,
I’d never heard of Bipolar disorder before. Just researched it just now, wow seems pretty…hard.
I don’t know if that’s the right word…
Guess you’ve had some tough times..
I’ll add you to my Blogroll.
You are too kind to research the bipolar thing. Yeah, it sucks, but it has made me who I am today and I don’t know or remember life without it.
I added you to my blogroll as well.
We are who we are..
Thanks for adding me.
Madness is permanent; like a splinter lodged in the brain, I would say. The great thing about insanity is that it is purely subjective in an everyday setting. Even the clinical terms are subjective.
It doesn’t have to be called insanity if you don’t want it to be. It can always be called ‘eccentric’. Doesn’t that sound so much happier?
From one bipolar blogger to another, I salute you.
I know how hard it is to wrestle the ebb and flow of the illness to harness creativity. I know the despair that comes when you reach out and that fleeting inspiration is no longer there. I know what it is to have that creeping, crawling intimation of dread as your own mind turns against you . . . What I mean to say is ‘yes’; when you express what you’re going through ‘yes’ I feel that too, and I am both comforted and amazed that the struggle is not so singular, is not so lonely.
We do the best we can. We try and pull it together for the sake of the lives we are supposed to share with those around us. We try to make sense of it all. Sometimes it’s not enough. The pills, the talk, the constant questioning—sometimes it’s just busy work, and the madness takes its toll anyway, and there is no one else to tell. The struggle goes on without fanfare, without punctuation.
So we’ve decided to share. It’s an intermittent pastime. It’s the bare balm of self-therapy. But I like what I read on your site; I like knowing that we still go on, those of us who share this debilitation. We still fight, and fret, and function without anyone else the wiser. We still make do.
Even though it’s not ideal. Even though it’s hard. Even though, at the end of the day, our obscure powers should be put to better use. We should be visionaries and not invalids.
Thank you.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment. It was quite beautiful and I found great comfort in your reminder that I am not alone. I actually teared up a little reading it. I often forget that others read my thoughts, but knowing it is not all in vain brings a quiet joy to my world.