Shortly after going incommunicado with the internet, I found myself disappearing from the real world and going completely, insanely, and delusionally off my rocker. After a flawless dive into emotional numbness (my “depression” end of the spectrum) I quickly over-rebounded into extreme mania which lent me too much energy, keeping me awake for 96 hours. After being awake for so long and barely eating any food to replenish my energy stores, I found myself lying handcuffed on a hospital bed, clucking at the doctors and following merrily along to “my personal reality” and all the fanciful story-lines that go with it.
Somewhere in the 96 hours I was able to talk with Brandon the Master Magician who was going by the name Khalid (or -ed according to “Kah-led”) which indicated his new role in the universe – namely to travel around to planets and promote world peace while inviting each planet to join the universal peaceful coalition of life, offering his sizable talents at wish-granting to those needing help. My husband was his apprentice, following closely behind in time, never realizing he was learning magic from a God, splitting souls with the body of Magic, or capable of creating universes with his finger as he was the bastard offspring of some distant relation to Brandon the Magician. I was something akin to a child prodigy in the realm of universe creation and had accidentally created an alternate universe when I had an abortion at seventeen and ignorantly aborted Baby Jesus’ second coming. While “GOD” was mad at what I had done, disapproving of lying about the abortion and covering up my mistakes while never accepting responsibility for my actions, he was also impressed with my innate ability to work outside the bounds of possibility to create better chances at probability and chaos streamlining into efficiency and success and had sent Khalid to my planet to start the process of peacefully taking over hell to recreate the Garden of Eden as a way of guiding me towards my role as daughter of “God”.
While these metaphysical roles overlapped with my “real-world view” I watched Brandon cast magic, Patrick complete invisible eye surgery on my newborn using sounds made via an iPad app that scrambles talking and adds musicality to it, he was then let it on the universal newsfeed/comedy show that is going on around our life for entertainment on a cosmic scale, he was granted the ability to create universes, and I decided to go outside and “play out” the very real story line I have developed for the Garden of Eden biography-drama in nothing more than a sports bra and “tutu” in our local graveyard, simultaneously taking on five different roles and morphing between them indiscriminately as the story played out in my mind, only to have paramedics and cops called on me because I was OUT OF MY MIND!
Thankfully it resulted in nothing more than the cops being overly rough with a loosely-cooperative looney-tooney that had decided to cluck in response to their pig-headed assumptions and blatant disregard for her personal rights. I literally said “cluck”… shaking my head doesn’t begin to shake the giggles I have at what those officers must have been thinking — Almost naked chick, clucking, and then “coming to” for significant stretches of intelligent conversations only to randomly start clucking when the wrong question was asked or ranting about abusive police and pompous behavior when the time was right. Rather than arrest me, I was fortunate to be sent to the hospital. With such absurd behavior and my complete unwillingness to answer “the quacks” at the hospital, I promptly received two shots in my ass and drifted into unconsciousness some time later.
Turns out I cannot cope so well on my own, with my own form of treatment for bipolar. While I gave it a valiant effort, seclusion coupled with deep and truthful personal analysis and highly cooperative and forgiving family members and serious herbal remedies does not provide enough stability for me to weather the waters of poverty without serious mental disconnection. After spending five days in the local psych ward, I am feeling refreshed and ready to try another route for treating the bad part of my bipolar. While experiencing the renewed lease on life I was granted, my time at the hospital was far from a pleasant experience for me.
Being in the ward was practically torture. I was shut away from my family with nothing to do but sleep, talk to an endless barrage of doctors, nurses, and med-students about my poverty-related problems they never cared to note, eat food, pump my breast-milk, talk with an endless barrage of doctors, nurses, and med-students about my mental issues that brought me to the hospital, write in my journal, participate in “group” two-three times a day, talk with an endless barrage of doctors, nurses, and med-students about how difficult life is for someone not equipped with money and a stable support system, color like a child, make warm tea, and worry about all the issues that were going on at home but I was helpless to help with. But don’t you worry, I was always able to talk with an endless barrage of doctors, nurses, and med-students…. … … yeah – still a little salty about all the repeating I had to do in order to make sure they found me “competent” to get the hell out of the hole I felt locked in.
Honestly I needed the time at the psych ward. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating, and I was not connected with reality. However, I honestly wish my time there wasn’t spent feeling terrified of being locked away forever because I am unable to perform like a monkey for the white coats noting my behavior and recording my actions with careless disregard for my emotional needs. But that is the past and I will be duking it out with the very thick survey they gave me to fill out.
The here and now is about my new desire to couple my developed bipolar techniques with medicine (Risperidone) and outside therapy. I believe I have finally grown into the treatment everyone has said I need but I was unwilling to accept as truth until I had given my attempt at treatment on my own.
Now to see how that mixes with living Life on the Lump.
Please head over to my GoFundMe and show some love if you have some to spare.