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There is a depth of darkness that is deep, moist, and close. It is where I go when I am upset. I don’t choose to go there, I am taken there without any recourse. I can’t escape, I can’t let go, and I can’t run away. It is my mind. I am bi-polar. That’s manic-depressive to those who don’t know the “new” term for an old illness. From what I understand, it is a mental illness that is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. I don’t know if that’s true, and I don’t know if I care if that is true. I just want you to understand what happens. So I begin….

For as long as I can remember, I have believed that most of the things that have happened around me (to me?) are my fault. That somehow, the actions of others, the consequences, the responsibility of those actions, are mine. I don’t have to do anything, I don’t even have to be there, I just have to know about it and I own the guilt. Funny, I don’t own the credit when it’s a good thing that results from situations. That would be nice, but that’s not aloud!

When someone does something wrong or gets mad at somebody else, I will allow them to convince me that it was my fault… I caused it to happen. That I was only worth that outcome. I replay, over and over, an event until I know that it isn’t really my fault, but it is. I know that people tell me that I am assuming the guilt of others, but I never get to believe that. I can have the assurance that they know that I am not at fault, but somehow that doesn’t matter. I hear them – I just don’t believe them. I know that I am to blame. How do you explain that so that it makes sense to the outside? You don’t. You just know it inside. And inside is what really matters.

This is like hitting your head against a wall until it just explodes. My head implodes. My heart aches with the sadness that my head is feeling. There is never enough balance between the two to make me know that I am ok. There is always enough assurance that others know that I am, but I’m not… I’m not ok.

When I am in a ‘manic’ state, (I call it), I tend to get worried and paranoid about nothing… for no reason. I don’t sleep for days even though I’m exhausted thoughts and actions tend to race through my mind like a video on fast forward. I have no control… I can’t shut myself down. It’s like speeding down the highway and not being able to find the breaks. The only way to stop is to crash. Which brings me to my ‘low’ side…

I don’t really look different. I don’t have a different smile, but a masked Smile with no meaning. A smile that isn’t true. And only i know that this is nothing but a facial expression for the rest of the world. Only I know that smile. I have looked in the mirror of my heart and have known that I was crying inside.

There are times that I’m feeling good and out of nowhere, I’ll start to feel a possession of anger and rage coming right for me and there’s nowhere to hide. It always finds me and rapes me of my tranquility that I rarely attain. It sends my mind blank with a rapid movement of blackness. It pulses, it squeezes, it pushes, it pulls. It is thick and sticky like gum that loses its taste. Every thought, every feeling sticks to the blackness that just swells with the holding of reminding me of all that I have failed. It is not a nice deep black that shines. It is a blackness that absorbs and swells and gets thicker and thicker. It traps, it holds, It expands and won’t let go. All I can do is wait. If it gets too much, I can take a pill that will give me some relief. It doesn’t solve my problems, but it gives me the chance to breathe the air that is mine for a while.

I am always sad, and it is a sadness that I have to handle. I’m afraid of letting anybody know what I’m really feeling in fear I may disappoint them. They may hurt me, or make me feel stupid even more than I accuse myself of. I have learned how to hide it well. I can laugh, I can joke, I can keep up the appearances and play the game of life, but I can’t do it inside. That’s where I always loose.

I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy. Just content. Whenever happiness comes my way, I can take it for the moment, but I’m afraid to hold on to it because I don’t deserve it. In my mind and heart, there isn’t a lot of sunshine that is mine to own. I only get to borrow it. The nice thoughts, and the nice feelings don’t last. They don’t get to stick around very long because they aren’t really mine. They belong to others because I always have to fight for them. I have to justify having them. I have to convince myself and others that I am worth them. I always have to fight for leisure, beg for it, plead for it, cry for it. It makes it almost unattainable.

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