I'm (sort of but isn't that always the way?) back

February 14,2020
Bipolar, the 'Bi' that's way less fun than the other one.

Hello potential readers. It's been a slice. My first blog post since 2014. Wow. ok. I'm writing this for several reasons. As Leonard Cohen said in one of his songs "I hope you're keeping some kind of record". One of the reasons I'm doing this is because a few choice friends told me I should. But secondly and most importantly I need to keep a record of my illness and medications. That's right, my illness. I have Bipolar I Disorder. The big sea change since beginning this blog in 2014. The drugs I need to be on are going to make me less articulate, less alive in my prose than I was in previous posts. (read the "Ahem" post and you'll get a sense of what I mean). And that's ok. Another reason for writing this came from a friend who thought that maybe someone out there is in the same boat as me, stretching their arms out to grasp hold of anything tangible. Because things in our bipolar world aren't tangiblee. They're just nebulous cycles of a heavy heart.
Let's see. Where to begin where to begin. Perhaps I should just begin by getting a readership. If you're interested in the mad stories of addiction, mania, medication, self-mutilation and destruction, and failings (so many failings) then let me know in the comments. This won't be a blog about those terrible things listed above only. I will talk a lot about compassion and self care. I'll probably keep writing anyway but it's nice to know that people are reading it, taking in the delicate balance between compassion and rage.
I suppose my first (first after all this time) should be my most recent status on |FB because apparently that's where I write my feelings now:
"On Tuesday morning I broke.
It started with me throwing up. A lot. But there was nothing in my tummy. I felt like I was throwing up the last of the happiness I would ever feel.
Then came the brick of overwhelming sadness and desperation. Now, I’ve been desperate before. You don’t let docs electrify your brain 21 times without being desperate. But this time was different. This darkness had a shape. It was omnipotent. It had teeth, sharp claws, with no hint of recourse, respite, or relief. I’ve been here before, standing on the edge of that abyss, and I’ve always had my feet firmly planted on the ledge, but this feels like I’ve fallen; still clinging to the edge with white knuckles, gritted teeth, and feet dangling looking for a step up. I’ve been in bed since the darkness came, only to emerge if the hunger pangs are relentless. I’ve been taking my sleeping meds during the day just to be asleep while the abyss keeps drawing me in. But I’m slowly crawling out of it. Slowly. As I always do. I keep trying to treat myself tenderly. Like a figure made of matchsticks and just as combustible. I’ve never in my life felt the way I did on Tuesday. Now my gauge on how depressed am I has widened which doesn’t make it easier when trying to seek help; my rock bottom now has a rock bottom.
If you’re at rock bottom know that I am here too. I see you. I hear you. You are loved and you are necessary. And I’m right down here with you holding your hand."