I’m bipolar but I’m not crazy, and I never was.
I’m stark raving sane. – Emile Autumn
All We Do
by Bap Mason
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
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..
-this is… The Neighborhood
A Cast of the Sane & the Nuts
2017 City of the Year