Spectrums of sanity

Mood disorders. If they never drop another one into my lap, it will be too soon. There's no one but me, the birds, the butterflies here in this garden, no one to share this newfound faucet of me to. Dear bipolar spectrum, you suck.

I am angry because this is one that may not go away. I am angry because it's something I inherited. I am angry because it hurts, and I can't fix it. I am angry because it means I could give this madness to my children, God willing I should even have them.

There's all these things about me now that I don't know what the hell to do with. My doctor said I can come off this medicine at any time, that sometimes it's just getting through the healing process. I wonder if I will ever be free. Will I always fight these monsters inside of me?

These labels are sloppy attempts to define me, at best. The shoe cuts my heel and crushes my toe. No matter, little soul, keep walking. One day an abandoned garden, tired eyes, and a sad heart will rise to sing praises again. Hope in God. Hope because there are people who love you. Hope that the sorrows have passed.

Clinical depression is easier to stomach than you're somewhere on the bipolar spectrum but not full blown, more like type two. But haven't I always felt this, that I am not normal, that I don't quite fit in? Check boxes are not good places to live. And I am not my illness.

He said if I had so many people who love me, they must see something good in me, something worth saving. I hope it's true. I hope to know what it is before I go. I hope these highs and lows won't end me. I hope to win this battle with all the check boxes I don't belong in.