Succumbing to Mania

by Alice Griffin 8 months ago in bipolar

When Mania Comes Back to Play

Succumbing to Mania

It's 4 am, I'm lying in bed, and again sleep is elusive. The electricity begins to crackle and shoot through my body. The world is dark and still. My room is quiet and safe. I pray desperately for sleep to take me. The only thing I want is to sleep. But sleep won’t come because the demons are creeping back in. Everything is awakening. I’m coming back to life. I want to do all the things at once. I want to strip naked and run. I want to scream and laugh. I want to dance. But most desperately I want to fuck. I want to make things to write and paint. To tell my story. Maybe I should get up and clean the house. Let’s crank the music up and get some one here to have some fun with. Maybe go to the park. Can we swing? Can we play? What if I take a shower? Drown myself in the bath? Oh, dear God why does this happen? I need to sleep. I need to get up. If I just let myself go, I could be happy. I could have fun. It could be great. The possibilities are endless.

Instead I press myself to the bed and I try to limit the possibilities. I allow myself to try to read or maybe watch a show on Netflix. A Disney movie would be better or some maybe some relaxing music. Something boring, something calming. Sometimes I can't even allow myself that much I have to lie and press every inch of myself into the bed attempt to feel each molecule of my being pressed deeper into the mattress. My fucking lifeline, my safety net. Fighting desperately as this demon attempts to overtake me from within. Feeling it try and claw into my head pushing out sleep and reason instead filling me with instinct. God I'm so awake, so alive, so real. I want to rage and rush and live, it's like being so fucking high.

If I give in, I'm fucked. If I give in, I'll raze my life one stupid uninhibited choice at a time. This last time I gave in fucked a 50-year-old, rage quit my job, slept with a 21-year-old in just 24 hours. Now I need to put the pieces back together. Again. To figure out how to make money come from nowhere but I want to give in completely. What if I just stop fighting? I mean what does it matter? I'm just insane and will never live a good life cause this beast will always destroy me. It's so powerful, so damn powerful. I can do anything, be anything. I don't let anyone keep me down. I am the queen of my domain. I have all the answers. This thing sucks? Don't do it. Don't want to go to work? Don't. This job is awful and treats you like crap? Quit. Solutions are there easy. Just do the thing. Live on instinct. React. Don't question. Don't deal just do. Keep going, never stop. Like rapid strikes. God I want to run. To laugh. It's all so stupid.

My reason slowly slips away as the most basic instincts take over. I’m left wondering how I got to this place. Desperately trying to understand how it all seems so simple, so logical, so easy to destroy all that I’ve worked for. All the effort and time to trying to make good choices and do the right thing, to live a good life. Yet again she awakes and takes it all out of my control, out of my hands and I’m subject to this majestic woman’s wiles, to her desires, her cravings, her need. The need to be free, to feel real, to just do whatever feels right. To have fun. To break free. And then it all crashes down and it's cold and lonely. Everything is dark, the bright beautiful electric waves are gone. The confidence and the freedom are replaced with panic and anxiety. The fear is overwhelming. The devastation takes weeks, months, years to recover from. Still she’s always there waiting to take over again. Waiting to break free. Yearning to take control to thrive. To actually live.

How does it work?
Read next: Never In the Cover of Night
Alice Griffin

Still trying to find my way in the world.  

See all posts by Alice Griffin