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Mania and Depression

Updated on June 24, 2015

Mania - excitement manifested by mental and physical hyperactivity, disorganization of behavior, and elevation of mood; specifically : the manic phase of bipolar disorder

Depressive - Of or relating to psychological depression

Freedom - Exemption from an unpleasant or onerous condition

Calm Before the Storm - a quiet period just before a period of great activity or excitement


In my mania I was free, intangible and invincible to the outsiders: these were the ones who weren’t part of my solitary niche. There was a fun to being me, except to say that I couldn’t be actually freed. What I mean by that is just the same as the mouse caged but safe from the cat. I’m sure you’ve all heard that expression before. Well, that was me, sitting in my cage but watching the taunting red eyes of this crazed feline. Except to say, my feline was a disorder that threw me down to the depths of a profound sadness. This sickness, if you want to call it that, isn’t like anything that I could imagine, or have imagined. I feel that it isn’t a cancer or a disease where you are told what could happen, or how the treatment will work. It has a mind of its own, a constant changing that becomes something else when you lease expect it. The rubix cube that turns into a sphere, then a prism, then back to a cube, but colors galore, blinding if not more.  Where was freedom if I hadn’t ever tasted it; from childhood this debilitating state of mentality had been a battle for me.  So much so that eventually you could say I became a slave to it, better yet, an addict of it. My disease changed itself into a formality. It turned into a rigid behavior molded by certain rules that could only go with a specific action. I was so caught up in something I thought I was, that the voices began to infringe on my reality. I couldn’t have friends because they would eventually abandon me. Nobody understood the workings of my mind because how could the possibly know me better than these friends who were always there no matter what. My addiction grew slowly till I was blind to the better part of my judgment.  In fact, you could say I had no judgment or say in what I did. The sad days came and went with the happy minutes. Everything blurred into an eventual roaring cacophony; it strangled the outgoing me, the wallflower me, the student me, the daughter me, the sister me, the reality of me. Insane, depressed, and inflicted with a traumatic past, I was locked, this was my mania.

Questions to Ponder

  • How will I approach treatment?
  • Am I taking care of myself physically, mentally, and emotionally?
  • What am I eating?
  • Do I exercise at all?
  • Am I inviting unnecessary stress in my life?

Before the Storm

Amidst the grasps of chaos I was torn suddenly with a diagnosis. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, that was certainly it. Take a look into the past of me and you’ll see the future of me starting out as this little me stranded by some of life’s most horrible experiences. But what I wasn’t told was that PTSD is very close to bipolar disorder and that the two share common symptoms so one could very well be mistaken for the other or a person could have both. Had I known that, then maybe just maybe I would have known that being on only an anti-depressant without a mood stabilizer would increase the mania. Oh dear friend, we meet again, it’s been so long, too long and my heart was starting to wander. Thus the second phase of manic struck unbeknownst to me. I definitely spun out of control at that point. No longer were rational thoughts welcome into my head. I didn’t know why I did any of the things I did. One day I would be pumped ready to go out and capture the world with a dance or a smile, maybe some flirting. The next I’d be riddled with regret and tempted to end it all because how could I have done that and now everybody will know and everything will definitely fall apart. There was no stationary mood for me, I just didn’t care anymore. And with no care in the world, who could stop me from floating on my clouds. My sister would later refer to this chapter in my disorder as my la la land state. She said I was so laid back and just wanted to be someone I hadn’t been invited to be. I cycled through love, or what I thought was love. With each action commited that led to crying and bitterness, the medication was raised because the problem was perceived to be just the sadness. I couldn’t take hold of a realistic future at that point. My education was in shambles and my head was a true mess. Then, one last mistake and it led me to a place where time stood still.

The instant hit of the medication leveled me out, calmed me down and turned me around to see a past. One dotted with infinite mistakes and cut apart by a rapid cycling of moods. I stood there on the edge of this time machine, wondering how it is that nobody, not one person saw that I was a problem stewing into a maddening state of being. The buckle hit my knees and I crumbled in regret and guilt at the many things I did that hurt. Yes, the pain was a heavy brew for me to down, but every morning I woke up, took my cup and drunk it down. Yes it was so sweet then, maybe a bit too sweet. It was the nectar that fed my mania, and the ambrosia that determined me to be like a goddess


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    • jennjenn519 profile image


      6 years ago from Cocoa, Fl

      Catalyst, thank you for the read. That was a very good hub and has helped me to look at my husband's bipolar disorder in a different way. Job well done!


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