Ends of a Mood Swing

My mania feels like a fishing line pulled taut to the breaking point.

My depression feels like I am that same fishing line let to fall in a curled mess and tossed to the bottom of the sea.

My mania feels like omnipotence — the power of God — channeled through my neck, my spine, my limbs, and my eyes.

My depression feels like my failure to be of any effect, like I have botched things up, crippled animals, alienated friends, brought evil into the world.

My mania feels like I can do great things, that I have a destiny that will change the world — bring peace, soften stone hearts, make people live in harmony.

My depression feels like a hole that sucks in everything good, that is no place to hide from despair.

My mania gives me energy to glide up the last spine leading to Everest’s summit and dive without a bathyscaphe to the bottom of the Challenger Deep.

My depression makes me stay in my house dreaming dark dreams.

My mania makes me love all humankind — especially women — and spark with anger if the purity of that love is questioned.

My depression makes me the lover of my pillow, my sheets, and my blanket, a friend of the curtained darkness, the noises of the day, and the deep emptiness of the night.

How My Condition is Changing Over Time

I haven’t had the problem with side effects that others have had. Except for the weight. The fucking weight. I went to my endocrinologist the other day and learned that my A1C levels had gone down five points. Of course, I over-ate to celebrate, but the maddening thing is that my weight isn’t changing: I continue to hover between 250 and 260 pounds! We have no explanation for this, my doctor and I, but it is noted.

Damn the weight! The blame falls almost entirely on my Risperidone, an antypical anti-psychotic. My mood stabilizers are kind on this point, but my Risperdal has transformed me from a reed shaking in the wind to a baobab — a huge club of a tree that eats up city blocks in Africa. The other night I took a nearly nude selfie. My stomach stood out like a bump on an oak tree. I looked like I was heavily pregnant, ready to drop a cat or a foal. The hair on my belly spread out from my navel like grass on a tiny planet. But I have been rewarded with calmer moods, gentleness, and peace of mind. I’ll find a way to reduce the weight.