I may be bi-polar, but I'm medicated

A little window into the bi-polar world

Light in the Darkness

There was only one thing about “being sick” that was appealing.  Certainly, it wasn’t the week in the Quonset without food, water or shower.  Neither was it thinking I would be better off dead nor rushing headlong toward that end.  The beauty wasn’t worth being sick to get it again, but it was stunning nonetheless.  When Trusty Boyfriend/Knight In Shining Armor finally talked me into the house (after a couple of appointments – an intake and a counseling that week), he fed me, showered me (I lacked the energy or concentration to do either alone – he literally showered me – an all time low for me, I assure you.) and we got into bed.  Then it happened.  He held me and I clung to him.  Both of us exhausted beyond anything else, we slept.  It sounds silly now, but at the time I remember thinking that there is just something about a man and a woman sleeping together after surmounting a life-changing event that is so attractive.  It was like a statement to the world: “Throw it at us, we don’t care, it may be hard but we’ll end up all right and together in the end!”

There was also the time Trusty “told me a secret”.  It was within a day or so of coming into the house and I lamented on my condition and its bearing on his health (oh again with the suicidal ideations already).  He said he had a secret for me, leaned over and poured the sweetest nectar I’ve ever tasted into my ear with a single whispered sentiment.  My heart skipped a beat, bubbles rose in my guts and I knew I had truly found my Knight In Shining Armor, despite any shortcomings he may have.

These were wonderful, bright lights in the gloom and doom of my illness and I would never wish upon anyone to go through the trouble for such a diminutive prize.  But at the same time, for me, these were life events; something to stand out as remarkable throughout the years.  Remarkable in a good way no less.  If being sick is what it took to warrant such a prize, I don’t begrudge the illness.

Here’s the sad part of these left-handed wonders:  I hope to never have another.  If experiencing a miracle means being sick again, I’ll go with hum-drum, thank you for the offer.

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