The lucky illusion
When manic, it is about wanting to change the entire world and believing I can. I truly live the words “the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
And it is not always a delusion.
If I can brace it, channel it and welcome it, I can be just crazy enough. Just a little less crazy than the bad. While braver than those who let logic come in the way and play it safe.
They say it’s in my head and I say YES you are right, it is! But they don’t believe it’s true, would it be truer if your brain was on the outside, I ask? Wouldn’t YOU do everything to protect it …anything that is needed? Why is it on me to teach you when you are the ignorant one.
Doctors say “Let’s treat the highs first” I don’t trust them. I feel exceptionally creative, powerful- physically & mentally, and oddly spiritual, the best part. I can read the signs of the universe.
But this phase transitions into a paranoia where I think my doctors are conspiring against me, and the entire world is my enemy. It is a constant battle because the highs bring out the best in me but the lows are my enemy. I know they are both liars, and still they are not.
Unhealthy high horse of self-righteousness, over-confidence, grandiosity and detachment from reality. The racing, obsessive yet beautiful ideas but that incoherent pressured speech… where they get lost and so does everyone around me. Those profound conversations, my creative hunger! Am I making the best speech?
Things I never said before, things I have never ever heard. “So profound” my friends would say, but my poor luck “what, what did I just say?!” Lost in the memory fog I am stuck in the middle of the best version of myself and the worst one.
The bickering breaks me down. In my darkest moments, I fear the most, I see my universe collapse, and the signs fade. No matter how much I stretch my arms. And then the whole sky comes down falling on me. And for some strange reason, that sky is grey and dark and awfully quiet around me. The tunnel vision, it is surreal.
And then, it grasps me in its arms, but it doesn’t want me to know what ‘it’ is. The anxiety feels like a gremlin sitting on my shoulder, whispering lies in my ears every moment of the day. But then the gremlin leaves, I just feel awfully lonely.
The memory of my high-self is what keeps me going. I believe in all my dreams, hopes, and thoughts that were racing in my mind, and I pray I will remember them.
I know now, from the help of my same therapists, doctors, and the loving community, that this is no illness. This is as humanly as possible I can respond to the miracles and trials of life. And there’s help, there’s hope!
Wouldn’t it be amazing to seize that, just crazy enough, moment forever?
Heck yeah! Here’s where I start. I sleep! Tired or not, depressed or not, my deep sleep is the place I start. Self-care, boundaries, and rest, I don’t need to earn, they are the natural states I was ripped off of. I don’t call myself manic for my great ideas, I own my brilliance. But I pick them one by one and contain myself with discipline and ask for help when I want. I am beyond those checklists of symptoms and the labels been put on my every action. I speak up, stand up for myself and do the same for everyone.
“I carefully listen to the joys and waves of laughter and the cries of those who had been silent for a while as I march on. Those ‘silenced’ will roar one day to their glory, and in their roar, the stigmatic words of hate, judgment, and despise will fade.”
I know it’s a swing so come join me, why not!
My lows are mine, my highs are too. Going so deep in my life would be impossible, if it weren’t for this Bipolar Disorder we call.
