Grief Comes And Goes, But Depression Is

I Am Tired Of Hiding, Tired Of Misspent And Knotted Energies, Tired Of The Hypocrisy, And Tired Of Acting As Though I Have Something To Hide.

I, Quite Literally, Woke Up From A Coma, From Having Tried To Kill Myself And It Was Very Clear To Me What My Psychiatrist Had Been Saying For Years. The Choice Is Not Between A Drug That Has Side Effects Or Not, Life Is Not Ideal. Yes, Your Drug Has Side Effects And Yes If You Don't Take It You're Going To Die.

Love Has, At Its Best, Made The Inherent Sadness Of Life Bearable, And Its Beauty Manifest.

But Then Back On Lithium And Rotating On The Planet At The Same Pace As Everyone Else, You Find Your Credit Is Decimated, Your Mortification Complete: Mania Is Not A Luxury One Can Easily Afford. It Is Devastating To Have The Illness And Aggravating To Have To Pay For Medications, Blood Tests, And Psychotherapy. They, At Least, Are Partially Deductible. But Money Spent While Manic Doesn't Fit Into The Internal Revenue Service Concept Of Medical Expense Or Business Loss. So After Mania, When Most Depressed, You're Given Excellent Reason To Be Even More So.

As Best I Could Make Out, Having Never Heard The Term Until I Arrived In California, Being A Wasp Meant Being Mossbacked, Lockjawed, Rigid, Humorless, Cold, Charmless, Insipid, Less Than Penetratingly Bright, But Otherwise---and Inexplicably---to Be Envied.