Yesterday, I saw an older, disheveled man running through the streets in a cape.  He was skin and bones, and he looked like he’d been running for days.  He looked like mania feels.  I always heard growing up, “there but for the grace of God, go I.”  That just saddens me now.  Why would a god choose for some people to suffer and others to be able to afford medication and treatment?  There but for my family, friends, ability to go to school and get a job, and afford medications, go I.  I also don’t know that I won’t be that person some day; nothing is permanent, and the statistics are quite dreary.

I’ve been taking lithium since I was diagnosed at sixteen.  Sometimes, it seems crazy to take an element that scientists accidentally discovered could regulate moods.  Last time I researched it, they still didn’t even know how it works.  When I worked in mental health, my manager told me that anyone who prescribes lithium for a teenager is a monster.  (Now that is probably a blog post on its own; dealing with stigma while working in mental health.)  I’m grateful that there is a substance that can keep me on an even keel and live what I believe is a good life.

I used to think Lithium was all there was, and I would still have manic episodes every couple years and live in constant fear of being happy.  Until two episodes ago, a psychiatrist suggested clonazepam.  Now, when I’m overly stressed and feeling that terrifying electrified feeling in my body and brain, I take two clonazepam and give myself a time out.  I usually tell my husband that I’m starting to feel keyed up, and he supports my efforts to take it down a notch.    I also take it to sleep at night.  As I’ve mentioned, sleep is my number one defense against mania.  So, perhaps, I’m just addicted to more expensive drugs, but they give me the piece of mind to celebrate life’s joys with less fear.

This was sent to me by my brother, it reminded him of Wonderfalls. Still one of my favorite portrayals of psychosis in the media.