I’m sitting in our room in the Holiday Inn in downtown Portland, Maine, waiting for my husband to apply scar cream on my stomach and legs.
Apparently, I’m on a business trip, though it isn’t mine.
Because of my current profession (writer), I’m able to tag along with him. As long as there’s adequate wi-fi and an at least one three-pronged plug for my little MacBook, I pretty much am a mobile writing machine.
Before we left for our short jaunt into Maine, I suffered through two perilous and tumultuous weeks of where the darkness became suffocating.
Any sharp object within reach, jabbed, scraped or sawed through my skin. Though I’m in therapy and on copious medication cocktails, the darkness still manages to pick and pull its way through into my everyday.
So, with a touch more self-indulgence, I’d like to formally introduce myself.
I’m an abnormal girl, striving to be normal, who is nothing more than extraordinary.
With Bipolar Disorder, I also live with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and PTSD. Along with my loving (and tolerant) husband, I live with a reformed prostitute of a cat, another feline who most certainly has one paw securely in hell and a Border Collie who thinks he’s a god.
At 29 ¾ years old, I’ve lived, oh, I don’t know, approximately 1,000 different lives, and somehow am still kicking around.
As I posted in the Introduction portion of the Forum, I likened my Bipolar Disorder to a thin veil, barely shielding me from chaos and order, beauty and death, and genius and creativity. This veil is something uniquely special about this disease: we’re able to touch both the light and the dark.
In my current state, I’m in a bloody battle with my mind.