Just when I thought I was out of the proverbial woods, I realised that I am not (the woods turned out to be Fangorn Forest after Saruman did his thing). In fact, today was the most intense in terms of shifts. I think I had so many mood swings, that I broke the gearbox and conformed to all of the stereotypes of bipolar. Don’t tell the muggles!
Sunrise was stupendous, the coffee was excellent, the company was fantastic, the dogs were delightful, the… eh you know how it is. My mood soared, I got incredibly excited about fuckall. It was truly lovely.
Then the happy hypo updowngraded itself to a jittery, nasty and wired mania and I tremored home (on my tremorcycle), and crashed into the couch. I felt desolate, a few tears leaked out. All of a sudden I was on fire style angry and ground my teeth, wanting to pick a fight. I didn’t pick a fight, but probably simply because there wasn’t time.
Sad again, hypo again – no mania that time, because I was at home, where the pills are. I keep hoping this fucking mixed state is some sort of evil perimenopausal PMS invasion, but so far no good. I’ve never cycled so fast before and I didn’t even think about bipolar until the second or third shift. It started out so well. I guess I need to learn some more about warning signs and coping tools before I relax more and analyse less. By the time I slumped the evening meds and sang gratefully into bed, I was exasperated and unhappy, tired and wired.
Irrepressible, miserable, irascible… Lather, rinse and re-fucking-peat.
Fucking ratfucker, syphilitic and monstrous bipolar. 5 000 years ago it was first recorded. Five thousand fucking years and fuckall progress in its treatment. Oh yay progress, we won’t cut out part of your brain. There are times when I genuinely wish somebody would.
Here is a love letter to bipolar…
Laag hangende fokken ettersak van ‘n poes, donkie kont naaier, doosis en draadtrekker, lelike moer, gaan kak in jou poes, gat gaabaa saat sokkie skeel teef, gaan looi n plooi pielkop poephol, stinkgat, sluimsloot, drol, jy pis my af, idioot hoer, fokenwil voetsek !
And here is something way, way, waaay sweeter, not least because if I had the choice, I’d pick depression over a mixed ep in a heartbeat. This poem is so beautiful, that I had to keep rereading it to check that it really is about sadness…
‘Lost in the woods I snapped off a dark branch’
VI From: ‘Cien sonetos de amor’
Lost in the woods, I snapped off a dark branch
and, lifted its murmur, in thirst, to my lips:
perhaps the weeping voice of the rain,
a shattered bell, or a broken heart.
It came to me, something out of far distance,
deeply concealed, and hidden by Earth,
a cry, defeated by immense autumns,
by half-opened moistness of shadowy leaves.
But waking out of the wood’s dream there,
that hazel branch sang under my tongue,
and its vagrant perfume rose to my mind
as if suddenly roots I had long abandoned
searched me, the lost domains of childhood,
and held me, wounded by wandering fragrance.
Give this song a chance, don’t switch it off till they get off the boat and on to the mic. Trust me, I have impeccable taste in morose music.
I feel better now, I did it because it’s after 1am and the drugs don’t work