I so wanted to tell him that I had bipolar disorder
I feel sorry for my wife.
I am shy about talking about the good things which identify me and present me as a person.
The cactus on my deck stand still for most of the year, with no expressions except their green sides and thorns. I buy amaryllis, tulips, and daffodils in the winter, but they flower and die so I toss them out and wait. Then, with no prompting by me except some MiracleGro, the first cactus flowers appear. One more I go out and find a surprise in a red or pink or yellow bloom. The exaltations keep happening through December. I simply watch them appear and then disappear to be succeeded by a new blossom as if they decided on a schedule.
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I woke up one morning, turned on my side, and said to Lynn “I’m sick.” Oh, I had sought help before this, many times from therapists and, one time, a psychiatrist. Encouraged by my mother, I tried the bootstrap approach where you somehow reached into your soul and made the depression go away.
What had preceded this bout? Several months of going from town to town speaking about the war in Yugoslavia and how people could support the peace movement over there. The subject had worn me down, eroded my belief in myself. I stopped returning phone calls, stopped believing in my own intelligence, my worthiness to be human. The period came to a soft but painful landing like running into a beanbag chair and feeling nothing of the collision except a rash of pain. I was not rested. I slept badly. I stayed up in the night and stared at the ceiling. I did not even have the energy to hate my condition. It was as if I did not have a proper body, just a jelly log that could do nothing but lie in bed. Who could pull themselves out of this by sheer force of will when there was no will to have.
I had heard about this new drug, Prozac, and I wanted to try it. Kaiser required that I make the appointment myself, so as Lynn watched, I picked up the phone and arranged to see the psychiatric triage nurse. I feared that she would see me as a fake, but she passed me on to the psychiatrist who prescribed Prozac.
I was cured the next day. Uh oh.
Trust was lost.
everyone here is name anyone
We had gone on one of those boats that take you to where the lava flows and drips into the sea