MY BIPOLAR ELEVATOR

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I’m bipolar but I’m not crazy, and I never was.
I’m stark raving sane. – Emile Autumn

∞∞∞

from 1983, Tell Me if You Still Care
by SOS Band

∞∞∞

MY BIPOLAR ELEVATOR
by Kendall F. Person

An adult living under the constraints of bipolar disorder must play tricks on their own mind. My tricks begin with the labeling of the box. The lighter used medicinal term, bipolar, is interchangeably listed at random with the psychologically damning diagnosis  ‘manic-depressant’. I reject them both, along with the pharmaceuticals that the terms rode in on. So engaging in trickery, I created my own term,  as well as, developed a combat-technique more conducive to how I see me.

My elevator. I offer no complaints or ‘woes are me’, for my elevator stays way up high 90% of the time. But it is the 10%, which is my test, engaging me in a mental battle, that ultimately decides my fate.  When emotions are in direction downward, I reach upward for my natural armor, and defeat the demons before they can arise. I drown my world in the positives that I see. I read forceful prose, like If by Rudyard Kipling 

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

I am at my best, within a scattered, manic organizational flow, balanced atop the high-wire – until I fall, crashing my elevator in the process. But self-awareness and experience remind me, that the only outcome a downward spiral offers, is submission to defeat. So  I open the blinds, embark on a long bike ride, telephone an old friend. or simply,  I return to my center and  write. 

The old montage, ‘finding strength in the misery of others’ is archaic at best. The real mantel is finding inspiration within your fellow man or woman. In knowing you are not alone. In believing  there is a natural beauty all around  us and inside us, as well. Rather we choose to see by finding techniques that  allow our elevators to rise or by choosing  a return to bipolar, a world we do not accept  nor recognize – is up to  us..

– – The Neighborhood
A Cast of the Sane & the Nuts



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7 comments

  1. I cry, then I write about why I am crying which usually helps me find my way out of the maze and into the light once again. Through my teen years my step-father tried to make us kids memorize “If”. What a poem. I only memorized bits and pieces but I still love it. Thanks for reminding me about it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It lives as an unwritten rule passed down by young men of my fraternity, that whenever we meet a man, that does know its wisdom, we are immediately to recite If. That was 30 years, and I still can recite it .. on a dime. Glad to know your father passed along it to his daughter. And thank you for sharing your plan when elevator goes down (big smile). So glad you’re here

      Liked by 1 person

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