A Pair of Ragged Claws

Posted on May 14, 2006 in Depression

I cycle every four to six weeks. Right now I feel like needle-tipped feet scuttling around on the mudflats off the coast of Maine. The feeling is so empty, rippled and yet blank, that it demands that I resort to thick metaphor. Otherwise my mouth would fall open and I would stare out into the bookcases. From my mouth would come a long, barren one-note exclamation: uh.

This lichen phase passes. In a few days, I’ll feel the life in my chest again and go about my business. Give me a few weeks and this lobster will break the surface of the water and fly towards the sun.

I don’t run the typical cycle. There’s no sudden crash following my mania. I waft into stability for a few weeks and then find myself in the blue deep. I bounce off the bottom for a bit and then float again.

Outsiders don’t understand that there’s not one way to be bipolar. Oh but you must crash after the mania. I don’t. I hover and then roll down into depression after a few weeks. My cycles run from four to six weeks. I’ve been asked if they have anything to do with the moon or the weather or my menstrual cycles (ha!). All I know is that they come and go, like the systole and dystole of the waves. (Lawrence Durrell gets the credit for that one.)