I have yet to find any state whether physical, emotional, social, or for an apt term ‘spiritual’, nor sober, under the influence of substances, at ‘baseline’ (including that of being medicated for Bipolar) that is a fraction parallel to that of a Bipolar Manic state.
This is what makes the manic state so welcoming, tempting, allusive, and insidious…
It is as if the world is suddenly… brighter, welcoming, full of sunshine, a wave of the feeling, the knowing; that all is well, and always will be.
As if you’ve been in this dark place for a while, holding on to the promise of ‘better days’, ‘recovery’, ‘hope’, and of finally, at last, even for a brief imperceptible moment; that there IS A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL:
A beam cascading from above, the small seedling of growth reaching out and rising as a sunflower towards that nourishing warmth of sunshine…
A weed pushing through the cracks, to blossom as a lotus flower.
The dense, cold, lifeless pressing of concrete on your chest, silencing your screams and whispers, making it impossible to breathe.
A foggy mirror 2 way mirror, keeping you trapped within, and watching those around you unable to see you, whilst you tap on the glass as if you're in the solitary confinement of a fish tank.
All having a slither and a glimmer of something that has been amiss for far too long. This something must be followed and heeded. For survival. For connection. Safety. Warmth.
‘Row Your Boat Gently Down the Stream’…
In a dream, there is no definitive beginning, middle, end…
No structured or substance of storyline, plot, nor character…
No awareness of self, context, existence, of the dreamer, or of the receiver.
A intangible seamless stream of consciousness….
Leaves On A Stream…
Cohesively flowing, passing, going nowhere and everywhere.
This stream into mania is…natural. Fluid.
You smile more.
Those around you welcome you back in loving embrace, so happy to finally see you return to your old self.
Your eyes have a glint and a humaness to them. Hunched shoulders removed of the boulders.
Slowly …. the calm and buyoant wave of which you were floating, becomes…. fragmented. dissasociated. Intercepted. Volatile. Frenzied. Unpredictable…
Many smaller streams now diverting from their origin of the original river.
Cascading into a hurricane crescendo, a storm at sea.
You are on Stranger Tides.
Once a tug-boat in the safe proximity of the ship and it’s purpose, direction, and destination…
A care-free lifeboat …
Now a raft adrift.
The ship is gone, the passengers no longer near…
As per the Titanic, in that of the iceberg was visible up ahead, yet instead of seeing the gravity and perilousness of the situation… it was full — steam ahead!
That flicker of insight of a warning … that the captain must go down with the ship.
In the height of the mania, you are indestructible! Unsinkable! Making Front Headlines!
You have found God, Spirituality, Purpose, A Higher Power… whatever you may call it. Divinity. Ecstasy. Your Soul.
Once the rush has transformed into a chaotic and psychotic frenzied mess;
That is when we need a life-boat to return that is looking for survivors.
In between the crashing waves, in moments of clarity, that is when you blow the whistle into the void of expansive black night for the lifeboats to return.
Eventually, once safe and sound and on solid ground;
You look back to see that in the ride with the tide, you failed to notice the calm before the storm.
I state that mania comes close to any other state.