excused absence

It's been several weeks since I have written about myself. Lately, this blog has been littered with fluff -- news stories that are readily available at any major news site. I never intended to transform this space into a news blog.

This blog is supposed to be about me. My struggles. My triumphs. My fictional pieces. My poetry. My life.

So where have I been?

The demons have forced me into hiding.

The past few months have been difficult. Dark. And at times, terrifying. My Cyclothymia has been out of control, which is the nature of the dreaded beast, but the past several weeks have been particularly volatile.

(According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Cyclothymic Disorder is a "chronic, fluctuating mood disturbance involving numerous periods of hypomanic symptoms and numerous periods of depressive symptoms . . . Cyclothymic Disorder usually has an insidious onset and a chronic course. There is a 15-50% risk that the person will subsequently develop Bipolar I or II Disorder.")

In short, practically every day of my life is a roller coaster of emotions. One minute, I'm filled with an abundance of energy and literally 40 minutes later (the length of time varies) everything turns upside down. I'm no longer a giddy individual riding the wave of a euphoric high; I've become a fatalistic beast of despondency -- a creature crippled by thoughts of hopelessness, disgust, anger, sadness and suicide. I want to reiterate that I wage this battle with myself virtually every day. And the darkness always triumphs.

"Why did you stop taking the meds your psychiatrist prescribed? The pills provided a solution you desperately needed."

I could launch into a lengthy diatribe about psychiatric medications -- and the entire pharmaceutical industry, for that matter -- but, because of my current mental state, I lack the energy to do so. However, I will state this: the meds robbed me of my creativity (which I'm finally regaining). The therapeutic value of expressing one's self through art cannot be understated. If I'm robbed of the gift of artistic expression, life loses its purpose and I am nothing.

Good night and good luck.

xx