As I stated in my profile, I have recently been diagnosed as bipolar. Actually, cyclothymic disorder which is bipolar only without the euphoria. My "up swings" are/were manifested by aggression. I know that anyone who knows me would say "duh".
Actually, I was raised in a devout Christian home and one of the core principles of my upbringing was that all psychiatry/psychology was self-centered and straight from hell. I was taught that to delve into the inner person was the utmost height of selfishness and fed the "fleshly nature" that had placed Christ on the cross.
About a year ago, due to some personal family issues, I began seeing a psychologist. I should say a Christian psychologist (that made it easier to rationalize). I made it very clear from the beginning that I did not want to be treated with any medication. I felt that the whole world was using medication as a quick fix and that was one of the main reasons our society has plummeted to the depths it has reached.
Then one day while I was describing how I had almost headbutted the parking attendant at my work, the light bulb went on over my psychologist's (jh) head and she said...."Amy, wait a minute...wait a minute...you are cyclothymic". At the moment that meant nothing to me. Then she used the "b" word....bipolar. She was recommending medication. NOOOOOO NOT ME!
I was at an all time low in my life. I knew that my aggression was getting out of hand. I had been that way my entire life---either rebellious or aggressive. Many times I had prayed to God that He would help me to become a more peace loving person. You know "blessed are the peacemakers". I cherished that thought but just could never attain that person. And at the age of 50, I had to admit that all those times that I "went Amy" on someone----well, it may not have been their fault. It might just have something to do w/me. I was the common denominator. Okay....I would succumb to the recommended treatment but only at the lowest dose necessary/recommended.
Then it all began......within days I had the energy to do even those day-to-day activities that had been so difficult to endure. For years I had attributed my fatigue and the anger/resentment to age or being overworked. I had even angrily blamed it on those around me who just demanded too much.
It began....a new found passion for my husband, the desire to be with my grandchildren, acceptance of my coworkers differences and the ability to empathize with those who were mentally ill. I saw the sunlight in a new light, songs w/new appreciation instead of a desire to turn that noise down....I was able to joke w/my coworkers, and even make them laugh. But most of all, I began to write my poetry.
Over the last few weeks I have written more than a dozen poems. At first I was afraid my manic phase was worse than even jh had diagnosed. Then her (jh) words came forth..."no Amy, you are not manic, you have just figured out a way to express yourself for the first time in your life".
So, this is my first attempt at making myself transparent. This is a poem I wrote. I'm sure someone...maybe even everyone will think me absolutely stupid for sharing this but you know....for the first time in my life....I'm going to do it anyway!