I sit in my bed alone. The silence makes the inside of my ears hot. My eyes burn and water, pushed beyond endurance.

All I see are the yesterdays, all the shadowy days I try to hide from myself, lest they emerge and tear my mind asunder.

But they are here now. If I do not face them one by one, as I have in the past, they will just get louder and uglier, and more truthful.

I just wish I didn’t have to go through it alone.  The very few people I have, can not stand witness to my never ending reals of memories, lest they realize that more than one of the acts committed herein has cast them in the role of victim.


{March 29, 2013}   Feeling crazy happy good…

Right now I feel like I could conquer the world. I’m dizzy and shaking from the electricity flowing through my veins. I’ve learned that most people with bipolar disorder have episodes a few times a year… Good or bad, as you can see from my posts, I am different weekly, daily, or from one moment to the next. I’m playing with my kids, taking out the garbage, doing laundry all at once. I feel like I am in fast forward. And I love it. Like a drug, my disorder gets me high. Like a lover, it embraces me and fills me with ecstacy. I dance in the front yard of my high brow suburban neighborhood like a highly experienced stripper, and I don’t care who sees.  But the urges are there, right under the surface, to engage in the behaviors of the past. Walk again down the stairway to rock bottom, where you lose everything.  I somehow clawed my way out of that abyss early last year. I was saved from being a body, without a soul. So now, as I bask in the glow of utter euphoria, I hunger. I want. But I won’t go back to that place. I can’t.

et cetera