I had hoped this episode was waning.  I focused on the moments of clarity, the laughter that bubbled up, the checks I made on my “Things to Do” list.  But there’s no ignoring it this morning.  The darkness yawns, and I feel myself falling.

There are rotten spots in my mind that draw my thoughts and contort them—the same old pits of longing and lack, inadequacy and brokenness.  The paths to these lies seem to be permanently carved into my psyche.  So easy to get to, so easy to believe.

There’s the lie of alienation, of living on the margins of other people’s lives.  Invisible, I only make myself known by bumping into their furniture or shattering a jar of pickles in their kitchens.  A noisome ghost.

There’s the dangerous lie of hopelessness, the one that finds no point in the struggle, no reward in the work.  This lie stretches out the rest of my life in days of marking time, filling up the hours with minutia.  The lie says relief is fiction, and wellness fantasy.

I see the lies.  I recognize the distortion as they slide through my mind.  I know them for what they are.  But, I can still hear them in the background like a radio turned low—a radio playing music I can’t stand.  It’s hard enough to be in the Dark without having to listen to AC/DC or Ozzie Osborne.  It’s hard enough.

13 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. docrob50
    Nov 07, 2011 @ 09:03:05

    what about the voice/story that tells you to get up every day; to write; to reflect on the conditions of this life? You must hear them too?


  2. Kathryn McCullough
    Nov 07, 2011 @ 09:21:27

    My friend, I’m sorry that you are struggling, but this is a spot-on, brilliant description of what it’s like! I have never read a clearer description. You have such an amazing gift of communicating the bipolar experience. I so hope you see that!


  3. Kitty
    Nov 07, 2011 @ 09:26:03

    I’m sure you’re in no mood to have someone recommend yet another book, so you can just read this post when you’re in a place that is open to input. This program has helped a friend of mine get off his drugs and reclaim his life for the first time in more than 20+ years. There are actually 2 books… “The Chemistry of Calm” and “The Chemistry of Joy” written by Dr. Henry Emmons. (I’m reading the Joy book now, since depression is my biggest issue and I’m thinking that the Calm book is just the same thing “in reverse” for people whose mania is the biggest problem.)

    You can come over and bump into my furniture any time you want!!!


    • Sandy Sue
      Nov 07, 2011 @ 16:10:00

      Thanks, sweet one. I’ll write those books down on my list and look for them another day. It makes me cry to have an invitation to be a ghost.


      • Kitty
        Nov 13, 2011 @ 12:12:35

        That’s not what I meant, silly Subby. I meant that I love you and I wouldn’t mind if you bumped into my furniture. You are allowed to be You with me. You are cherished just as you are.

      • Sandy Sue
        Nov 13, 2011 @ 18:49:49

        I know. Really. I meant that the invitation to come bump into your furniture touched me deeply.

  4. pegoleg
    Nov 07, 2011 @ 14:58:46

    I think most everyone has those thoughts at one time or another, even those of us who don’t suffer with bipolar.

    Like scary shadows in a kid’s bedroom at night. I can’t imagine how it must feel to have them so looming, black and near enough to touch. I guess you just have to keep doing as you’re doing – hold them back, and keep telling yourself “That’s not a big monster come to get me. It’s just my coat, hanging on the door.” And in the morning’s light, you’ll truly see it.


  5. strugglingwithbipolar
    Nov 08, 2011 @ 08:15:04

    I know the feelings you have described far too well. **HUGS**


  6. martin
    Nov 10, 2011 @ 21:34:37

    I was reminded what attracted me to your writing today. there is something empowering reading your words, knowing some one else feels. I wish i had or could acknowledge what i am good for. I am glad for you and your voice.


    • Sandy Sue
      Nov 11, 2011 @ 05:54:07

      There are days when we just can’t find what we’re good for. And that’s the illness corrupting our soul. Don’t listen. It’s not true. Even if you can’t figure out what you’re good for today–wait. You’ll be able to find a whole basketful when the illness shifts.


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