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Guided by prompts from WDC blogging challenges... and of course, life |
| I'm sure we've all heard that old adage, "What goes up must come down." There's so much truth to that saying, beyond where gravity is involved. Manic highs are most often followed by some pretty extreme lows. Welcome to my Bipolar 2 nightmare. It is so easy to ride the highs, to not stop to consider what will inevitably follow. But the higher you are, the harder you crash. I wish I could keep my feet on the ground rather than flying high or on my knees in tears. Normal life isn't my norm though. And I must play the cards dealt me, like it or not. My shrink warned me yesterday that if I didn't take care of myself, I was going to snap. She was trying to warn me that the mania could get worse, and I wouldn't have control anymore. Maybe she should have thought about that other possibility. The one in which I find myself once again. Remember silly girl. What goes up must come down, and down, and down. I told Mark earlier what is going on. Being my best friend and husband, he deserves to be forewarned of my disposition. He can make sure there aren't many things around the house I could hurt myself (or him) with. He'll be better equipped to handle my silence and my random bouts of sobbing. There's no good way to express how I feel. So few words even come close to sufficing. Drained, empty, despondent - wretched. In the end, though, they are all just words on a screen. Words that still fail to express the true extent of the experience. And, yeah, I'd like to die or at least inflict physical pain upon myself to force my mind away from the mental anguish. Once upon a time I would burn myself in times like this. I never was big on cutting. Burns caused more pain. But I'm an adult now. And I still have it together enough right now to know that burning isn't the way to go. I just don't know which end is up anymore. Every direction I turn is a southbound road farther down the spiral. The dogs keep checking in on me. It's like they sense I'm off. Coltrane keeps coming and putting his massive head in my lap and looking up at me with his big soulful eyes. Maybe he's telling me I'm not alone, who knows. Nixon won't leave my feet. He guards me, escorts me through the house, refuses to let me be alone. They know. I wish humans could be as perceptive... I know I'm not alone. I have Mark, family, and the dogs and cats. And I still have somewhat of a grasp on what is real. Hopefully the ride doesn't get worse. But either way, I know that This Too Shall Pass. Enjoy your lives when you can y'all. Everyone deserves to be happy. |
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