Re-blogged for Rarasaur’s PromptForThePromptless: Alter Ego
I don’t think anyone can understand what it is to feel bipolar unless, well, you are bipolar. So I have attempted to describe what each day is like using childhood metaphors in the poem below. Bipolar disorder is like a pendulum that swings too fast. One side of my personality, the engine, is sad and slow like Eeyore the donkey, and the other side of my personality is fast and frenzied like the crazy trains in the Thomas the Train Series.
Having suffered this affliction since the age of 12, I can truly say that I have had my highest highs and my lowest lows from these mood extremes, and it has shaped many of my actions. And while wanting to suck in carbon monoxide is a constant threat to my happiness, health and well-being, I admit that the hypomanic “the world is my oyster” state has allowed me to creatively express myself in ways that I don’t believe are open to me legally! In this mood I am wacky, quirky, funny; I will take any dare; I am the life of the party. I have humorously stated that I AM MY OWN HIGH, although that is a transient state that leaves the resultant low almost unbearable.
I tolerated myself until last year, when I began to Rapidly Cycle throughout the day, leaving me loopy, confused and agitated. With great reluctance I shuffled to a psychiatrist and wept for an hour over my lack of mood control. His kindness, tissues and humor restored me and the medication, after a period of adjustment, is beneficial….although I now and then yearn to remove this pharmaceutical shackle and Just Go A Little Wild. I have read that bipolar disorder and artistic talents are linked, as in the case of Lord Byron, and if true, at least there is a rainbow in the sea of disorder that plagues my life.
“Life on the (Bi) Polar Express”
I belong to an elite club, the Bipolar Express.
Engine, sad like Eeyore, caboose fast and loose.
I puff forward and backward, East or West.
Barreling, barely on track, or crashing and failed.
Life is either an uphill battle or a downward slant.
On the fast track or derailed,
“ I think I can, I think I cant”
Quiet depression, manic rave and rant
Am I the hangman or the noose?
I try to juggle the teeter-totter stress.
Life is dull and dark or rapid delight;
internally my emotions often a mess.
A shade in a world of black and white
or a shining orb floating in sparkling light.
Unbalanced, I feel MORE or LESS.
Each day is a mystery I must confess;
A black cloud or rainbow delight is anyone’s guess.
My emotional temperature, my rapid cycling unrest
does not make me feel God-blessed.
But there is a rainbow in my cloud of duress;
Being bipolar is an artistic caress.
Humor, poetry and music, brightly dressed;
These creative expressions allow emotion some rest.