Depression had been my almost constant companion for almost two years, plus I had endured a horrific period of psychosis where paranoid delusions tortured me and caused me to question my feelings about even everyone and everything I knew.
Suddenly, inexplicably though, things began to look different. The sun shone brighter, I regained my sense of humour, became more articulate and conversant. I did not see it coming – my wild trip into mania.
It was just before Christmas, I had energy to burn, my mind was filled with many fantasies and plans. I should have recognized the signs but I didn’t. I lost insight quickly. I am schizoaffective so have experienced mania before – not as many times as depression and psychosis but I have been on a few wild rides in the past forty or so years.
The last time was around three years ago and I had hoped this one would be my last for many reasons, not the least was my disinhibited behaviour but also my age. I am now 58 and know that when I finally come down to earth, I will be exhausted. I am still running from this and the prospect of another plunge into depression.
My judgment has been once again impaired and I have to hope that I have not alienated those who care about me. I probably have worn them out with my exuberance but at present I have not reached the stage of regrets.
Flying high, my feet barely touching the ground, I see colour, movement, beauty everywhere. I feel love in my soul, life in this old body and I want to spread the sunshine around. Too bad it won’t last forever – but it won’t. My mind spins until it is dizzy and I laugh at myself, at anything else I contemplate. Most people though don’t get the joke – the eternal clown, court jester – a fool on parade. It doesn’t matter right now.
I feel sensual, alive, a free spirit of the earth with love me written on my back. Smiling I fail to see the concern of others. My foolishness does not compute yet – but it will and that’s the tragedy of mood swings – there is not much medium ground to stand upon.