present

I'm still here. My blogging presence has been sporadic recently because I've been struggling with a depressive episode for the past few weeks. I enjoyed an episode-free span of about four months; I can only hope that my current spell is nearing its end.

My current episode has sparked many familiar memories -- and none of those memories are good. I remember my first bipolar support group meeting (I haven't attended a meeting in about two months). I saw these people -- broken men and stricken women -- and I remember telling myself, No, I'm not one of them and I won't become one of them; I will not let this illness ravage my life because my conviction and determination have been culled from that which is undeniable and irrefutable.

But that confidence was bogus.

I am "one of them." I cannot will this illness away. It is not something I can purge from my belly. And when this illness ebbs, which it inevitably does, I must not fool myself by believing I am silencing it -- because I'm not. This sickness is oblivious to my actions.

What should I do? What can I do?

I can maintain my current form of treatment, which, essentially, is nontreatment, and, during my depressive states, become a highly irritable and easily frustrated person who resents "normal" people because I am angry about the choices I have made and where those choices have led me. I project this anger onto others because I need to blame someone for my illness; I can't blame myself because I didn't ask for this sickness, this disease. This illness was not born from reprehensible behavior. Did a genetic predisposition curse me? Or did an abnormal brain development damn me? Whatever the case, the depressive turns transform me into a loathsome monster: I drink heavily; I binge eat; my sleep is disrupted, which exacerbates my irritability; and my mind is preoccupied with disturbing thoughts.

Or I can return to a form of treatment that includes pharmaceuticals. I've been a strong opponent of psychoactive drugs, and while I still believe these drugs are overprescribed, it would be shortsighted of me to discount the benefits these drugs can offer.

I see now that many of the ideals and principles I embraced during my early- to mid-twenties were brash and baseless. Many of those beliefs were products of a manic mind and a stubborn individual, and therefore lacked the necessary ingredients of any belief system: logic and reason. One cannot hope that determination alone will provide sufficient strength to achieve one's goals. Certainly, willpower will nurture the path to accomplishment, but without a foundation, without structure, failure and disappointment await.

I'm sure many find this maxim obvious, but for the individual who suffers from manic and depressive spells (he or she tends to act impulsively), this invaluable foresight is lacking.

As I learn more about my illness and acquire the wisdom that comes with age, I'm slowly learning how to live -- healthily and independently. Obviously, I wish I had learned these lessons ten years ago. It's easy to allow the knowledge of a wasted decade deter me from changing my ways, but I have to persevere. Either I survive through a principle of persistence or parish from a disposition of self-loathing.

xx