display | more...
I told him I was happy today, so happy I loved everybody. Everybody who danced across my screen or smiled unsurely at me in the grocery store or weren't quite there but I could still remember them. I loved them all, so filled with a almost painful uncontainable feeling of overwhelming joy.

"I just hope you aren't sad in a few days, I hope that you aren't bipolar or manic depressive."

I could have slapped him then, if he were there. I could have slapped him and told him I never wanted to see him again. I will be sad in a couple days, maybe even within the hour. I will be sad and I will cry and I will then be filled with an uncontainable terrible sadness.

So what?

I spent literally years drowning in these feelings. These horrible mood swings that would cause me to go from happy to sad to angry to indifferent within a brief moment. I have many faces. I have many sides. I have many feelings but at least I feel. I've tried the medications and they only make my stomach hurt and feel dead. I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't want to change myself, because this is me. I like my instability. I like that things touch me, and I will embrace it.



I realize that manic depression and bipolar disorder can be very serious. I'm not saying being on medication is a bad thing for certain people, it's just not for me.
A friend once told me that the critical mind was like a knife in a clumsy hand, and that prozac was like putting a condom over the knife so you can't hurt yourself with it.

It made me feel like a robot; I could function perfectly well, but I was neither happy nor sad. Nothing mattered, but this did not bother me. Prozac is the ultimate expression of the capitalist ideal.

In the laws of conservation of mood, you can't experience highs without lows. I'd rather have a rollercoaster of a life than a train ride through the midwest.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.