Why is it that I can't be normal?
What is normal, you ask? I don't know, but it's not me.
It's not normal to cry all the time and want to hit things and sleep for hours on end. It's not normal to have to fight with your body to get it to calm down, to stop the leg bouncing and pacing and jaw grinding, to stop the racing thoughts and the fluttering heart. It's not normal to love your family one minute and want to run from them the next. It's not normal to think about dying, or to think about wanting to be dead and how to best accomplish that.
My brain doesn't work as it should.
I take my meds. I go to therapy. It all works for a while, and then it doesn't. And I slip downward, farther and farther, until the darkness envelops me and I barely see a sliver of blue sky above my head. Most times it's not even blue. It's gray.
Everyone around me moans a collective, "Oh great, not again." I don't blame them; it's my feeling too, as I take my slow slide into the abyss.
What is normal, you ask? I don't know, but it's not me.
It's not normal to cry all the time and want to hit things and sleep for hours on end. It's not normal to have to fight with your body to get it to calm down, to stop the leg bouncing and pacing and jaw grinding, to stop the racing thoughts and the fluttering heart. It's not normal to love your family one minute and want to run from them the next. It's not normal to think about dying, or to think about wanting to be dead and how to best accomplish that.
My brain doesn't work as it should.
I take my meds. I go to therapy. It all works for a while, and then it doesn't. And I slip downward, farther and farther, until the darkness envelops me and I barely see a sliver of blue sky above my head. Most times it's not even blue. It's gray.
Everyone around me moans a collective, "Oh great, not again." I don't blame them; it's my feeling too, as I take my slow slide into the abyss.
Comments
"'I’ve been told your wound is your gift,' [Mary Pat] Gleason said at the end of the show. 'I believe bipolar disorder is my gift. But I have to see it that way. Otherwise your wound is just a wound.'"
Your loving sister, Anne
Kerry