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Desperately inhaling as much sanity and wisdom of self before I’m plunged under the surface of manic unreality.

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“May the heavens help me and my spirits guide me to a better play. This I pray.”

My mania is coming around again for another episode. I can feel it creeping in, itching for another ride. So can my husband. And I can feel the overwhelming nervousness between us as we approach another dive into my insanity. I feel it and I understand the validity of it.

My last episode scared me quite a bit. While I thoroughly enjoyed the story lines I thought were real and the wealth of understanding I acquired from those very literal subconscious projections, I became an incomprehensible psychopath that completely distanced herself from the love of her life. The thrill of mania has a serious price to pay, the higher I go the more he suffers for it.

How incredibly unfair. The more understanding I gain of my inner workings and problems specific to who I am, the more pain and suffering he has to endure while I am “down under” fishing around in my subconscious. I stick my tongue out at the ridiculous hypocrisy of life – I heal myself while he gets harmed in the process. I call schenanigans!

I don’t want to go through that again. I love him. I need him in my life. I’m so tired of lashing out and attacking someone who loves me enough to take whatever is boiling up inside me, from wherever the hell it manifests from. I don’t know where the mania starts and why there is always the tendency to run away and often hurt those I cherish most. I subconsciously project negativity and consequently punish those I love most for daring to accept me at my weakest point…when I’m manic.

Because while I may positively promote the benefits of mania, I absolutely recognize the potential for disaster due to my lack of intelligence while I am completely reliant on my intuition. And when I’m manic I’m running on intuition alone.

Which can be scary to most because my instinctual intuitive nature is to “stand up and fight” for the underrepresented and impoverished of this unjust world. Pure fire and pure unadulterated passion spews from my every pore when I get going. It is intense to say the least. I’m very prone to ranting at this stage to be brutally honest.

I don’t entirely understand why so much passion and fire overwhelms me with such regularity. I don’t know why my stories are so realistic that I can’t differentiate between what’s really happening and what’s really just my crazy hazy reality. I just don’t know.

But I do know that it comes on whether I fight tooth and nail or peacefully surrender myself to the seductive allure of it all. I’ve realized after too many devastating episodes that the harder I fight, the harder the episodes are on all parties involved. And so I have learned to stop resisting what is facing me, and instead embrace the inevitable tide of emotional understanding about to overtake me. But I have yet to stop anxiously pacing before the beginning of each episode full of the possibility of new story lines. Which brings me to the here and now.

What feels like my last breath before I’m completely overtaken by mania and I lose my ability to distinguish what’s real and what’s my delusional overlapping filter on reality. When mania sweeps over me I lose my ability to properly judge what is real and what is my subconscious misinterpretation of reality projecting itself into my conscious thoughts.

It is at this point I lose my ability to assess how my beliefs and understandings are affecting those around me. And it is at this point I start unintentionally involving my loved ones in the mental role-playing my body naturally creates to heal itself without being able to instruct them on what I’m thinking, inform them of the events I believe are occurring, or guide them through the issues I know how to resolve. They are living in my literal subconscious manifestations of reality and suffering, lost and oblivious to what is going on, simply because they can’t understand what I’m thinking.

If only people could read my mind. I would instantly open my “brain newsfeed” to one and all so they could finally get how I process the world. I would freely let people tap in and listen to my insanity and try to make sense of it or allow them to coast in the riptide of euphoria as I experience it.

But that’s the mania kicking in…

My goals for this episode are to remain grounded. My attachment to my husband is my key indicator when I’m really losing it. Somehow my story lines always start to separate me from him in very justifiable or seductive ways that are completely untrue in reality, and when I fall into their trap things start to take a negative spin for the rest of the episode. I need to avoid the negativity traps this time and focus on the positive spin offs I see or encounter.

Tears and trauma are caution signs of unfair craziness projecting itself to others. Construction and creativity are the goals of the quest this episode is presenting to me. Wisdom and writing are my guides for gaining experience and skill while under pressure.

Family and friends are my grounding factor for reality. Honesty and humbleness are my stabilizing factors while I’m lost in the darkness of my subconscious. Guts and glory are risky feelings that often lead me astray but often result in the most gains in the eyes of God. Rest and recuperation are essential to my continued ability to manipulate the episode.

Oh goodness. I’m so nervous. I can’t get enough down to prepare me for what I can’t predict I’m in for. I cannot know the twisted definitions and shapes my manic haze will develop. So instead,

One last breath before the plunge.

It’s time once again to get back to exploring my Alura, the color to my soul’s artwork, the insane part of my insanity and the persona of my personality. Wonder what she’s cooked up for me this time…

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