I never wanted to be a rebel, but in my life, I discovered rebellion is a necessity in order to survive. To lose myself again would be a devastating blow. I have lived between sanity and insanity too much of my life. My insanity has lingered in the form of bipolar disorder; so how do I emerge from that. I now take pills, which I hope will keep me from flipping out again. It has as much to do with sleep and learning how to live with the lack of it as much as anything. My chemistry is a blessing and curse at the same time. It has caused me to act on impulse and yet, I flirted with a sort of genius at the same time. My moments of mania have resulted in some of my greatest works in writing and art. Tempering my soul results in a void in my life, a listless existence.
I have wandered halls of some of the best artists I have ever met. I refuse to exist for one moment in time. A time when one excelled for a moment that is reveled in as the pinnacle of ones' life. I have had many such moments, but I have a drive, which forces me to continue to strive for another such moment. Those with my illness have had many idle moments, but without the internal chaos, I am not sure I would have emerged with another pleasurable idea. Some of the ideas are definitely ludicrous but being able to accept myself with the crazy thoughts allows me to move forward. I am a survivalists because I have to be. My children need me to strive over my bipolar existence so they will see a model of acceptance.
My mother lingered, in what was then called schizophrenia, but I actually think she existed with bipolar disorder that was not accurately diagnosed at the time. She went through the hell of insanity, in which treatments were brutal. The irony is: I for a time was hospitalized in the very same place as she. Somehow I thought I could save her. Ah, but for the thought. She too was a survivor though; as was my father. He too was diagnosed with schizophrenia, but his was brought on by WWII. He definitely was bipolar and misdiagnosed. It was from my father that I developed a love of poetry and the arts.
So why am I a rebel? I was raised with the discipline of the Catholic Church. I was raised at St. Vincent Sarah Fisher Home for Children for ten years and a Catholic Church for my entire schooling through grade twelve. The turmoil in my life has caused me to exist in the outskirts of American Society. I am the one many have cast an askance eye to when I was completely out of my mind. So how do you override yourself; through acceptance. I have finally learned how to accept me for who I am, though at times I struggle because of the rigidity of family members who still practice the Catholic faith.
A memoir in progress perhaps this will evolve as a book.
I have wandered halls of some of the best artists I have ever met. I refuse to exist for one moment in time. A time when one excelled for a moment that is reveled in as the pinnacle of ones' life. I have had many such moments, but I have a drive, which forces me to continue to strive for another such moment. Those with my illness have had many idle moments, but without the internal chaos, I am not sure I would have emerged with another pleasurable idea. Some of the ideas are definitely ludicrous but being able to accept myself with the crazy thoughts allows me to move forward. I am a survivalists because I have to be. My children need me to strive over my bipolar existence so they will see a model of acceptance.
My mother lingered, in what was then called schizophrenia, but I actually think she existed with bipolar disorder that was not accurately diagnosed at the time. She went through the hell of insanity, in which treatments were brutal. The irony is: I for a time was hospitalized in the very same place as she. Somehow I thought I could save her. Ah, but for the thought. She too was a survivor though; as was my father. He too was diagnosed with schizophrenia, but his was brought on by WWII. He definitely was bipolar and misdiagnosed. It was from my father that I developed a love of poetry and the arts.
So why am I a rebel? I was raised with the discipline of the Catholic Church. I was raised at St. Vincent Sarah Fisher Home for Children for ten years and a Catholic Church for my entire schooling through grade twelve. The turmoil in my life has caused me to exist in the outskirts of American Society. I am the one many have cast an askance eye to when I was completely out of my mind. So how do you override yourself; through acceptance. I have finally learned how to accept me for who I am, though at times I struggle because of the rigidity of family members who still practice the Catholic faith.
A memoir in progress perhaps this will evolve as a book.
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