Being Bipolar isn't EASY

and the Art of Slowing it Down

for five press – “I on” (D e press I on)


I want to tell you about depression [for five press – “I on”] and me… we have a funny relationship.

The long and short of it is that I won’t admit that I have it, depression that is, and I pride myself on hiding it so well that others never suspect that it plagues me. I am a fortunate one, which can get out of bed every morning and force myself to smile. (During my biggest challenges I have been known to regularly exercise, meditate and eat well; which, as the magazines report, helps a great deal…) It’s so ephemeral that I hardly understand how it manifests itself.

What I never understood about depression is that after I obsessed about the things that I longed for the most; specifically getting back together with my X, the obsession(s), became maggots on my heart and I erroneously blamed the innocent nameless faceless monsters, the ‘them’, that I write about throughout this blog.

My faith in the Universe kept me believing that I could fight, crack the code, win back Scum-lazy-ass-moron’s adoration and put an end to the proverbial elephants in my closet.

But my misplaced faith in a long-lost-love didn’t play a role in how it ended… rather my disease casted me in the largest bipolar role of my life.

I dressed in a dirty grey t-shirt (worn inside out and backwards) with a shabby-chic couture “west coast choppers” hoodie, a used purple bath towel as a skirt – tied it up with a brown belt, wore one bone white heel on the right foot with a black calf-skin slip on the other and marched into my doctor’s office half expecting scum-lazy-ass-moron to be there. (I was armed with four (4) small heart shaped earrings, from Barney’s CO-OP, and prepared to pierce belly buttons, as an initiation to my club of closest cohorts.)

Readers beware – I am confused too. As it wasn’t exactly then, but shortly thereafter, at my doctor’s office that I realized that Scum-lazy-ass-moron was never going to ride the white horse to my rescue. I had no knight in shining armor… just an acutely sensitive idiosyncratic and PSYCHOTIC disposition.

Part of me wishes that I took a selfie that fateful day… now I see, it was after all my Independence Day. The day that I finally let go of all that I had seen and relinquished a silly childhood dream.

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