Dr Seuss
Easter went by like a little whirlwind. One I felt verged on the edge of destructive, each time just allowing me to escape. From the outset it seemed my return was of humorous value to my sisters, my newfound immunity to embarrassment still puzzling to them. On a deeper note, it was uncertain how seriously others might perceive my state of mind. Having spent the last year largely fighting to stay afloat, I had actually strived to maintain a front of happiness and solidity in the face of adversity. In short, I refused to grant anyone the satisfaction of me being Any Less Than OK. This, it transpired, was a lifestyle not without it's ramifications.
More and more it becomes apparent to me that bouncebackability is really a nice word for manic-depressive (N.B: Let's not be using the more PC "bi-polar". I mean, at least the "manic" element of the former shrieks productivity). With one week of fairly consistent and lively quotidienne under my belt, without warning, darkness was descending. A family gathering looming, I was suddenly gripped by a desire to reject happiness. Indeed, I was exhausted by the prospect of it. Wounded pride, frustration, and anger all resided, and in a pent-up state I was unable to convey these emotions. My unhappiness resulted in rejection of those around me and for some time I spent my waking (and sleeping) hours in a state of discontent. As had happened before, I toyed with the idea that somehow I would not be able to shake this state of being, that it had finally "become too much." Thankfully, the episode passed and I was able to return to liveliness. I am hesitant to try and employ the word "normal" - for I feel that my mood is liable to veer between a state of near euphoria and invincibility to a downward spiral of self pity, at the metaphorical drop of hat.
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