It’s not fun to have serious depressive episodes.

Those of you that know me personally know that I have the ridiculously unpredictable and unpredictably ridiculous ability to have what medical professionals refer to cryptically, in their snooty voices that speak down to all of us without medical degrees, as “the blues”. The joys of biploar disorder. My highs are a little higher, my lows are a little lower, and the cycle is a little more frequent than what most people experience. Kinda like my Strapping Young Lad to your Guns ‘N’ Roses.

Pussies.

That’s not the worst part of being bipolar, though, and I had managed to forget that. I’ve learned to deal with my mood swings, wild as they can sometimes be; I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, I try not to complain too much unless its valid, and I try to keep the negativity under control. It’s not exactly easy, but it works; most people aren’t aware that I’m bipolar unless I say something, and over the years I’ve managed to prevent my black cloud from spreading too far past my own borders. And it’s been so long since I’ve dealt with the other parts that I had forgetten about the really bad part, and let myself fall under the impression that I had beaten this disorder.

Silly rabbit. Tricks are for hungry Bengal tigers.

I won’t go so far as to call last night a nervous breakdown, at least not in the traditional sense — I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those. I’ve never been hospitalized, nor feared for my own well-being. But whatever you want to call it, it’s characterized by uncontrolled crying, periods of really intense rage, and holes in the walls of my apartments and car interiors. Oh, and loud music. Lots of that.

But what makes those episodes worth their occasional while — keep in mind that it’s been almost exactly three years since I dealt with one, and thus the thoughts of being ‘cured’ — is the cleansing effect. In the days after the breakdowns (which are usually meaningless, triggered by something that is, on any other day, utterly unmentionable), the entire world feels brighter. Not in a manic way — no, that would make perfect sense. This is more like the world after a summer rain storm; everything seems bright and clear, exactly the way that you imagine that things are supposed to be.

Supposed to be. That’s a loaded phrase, yeah?

So after today, once the headache has faded and I’ve patched the walls, things return to normal. I hope for my sake — and that of others, to whom I feel like I can’t apologize enough — it’ll be at least another three years before I have to deal with that again.

But I’m also reminded how bad things can get when my disorder really decides to come out from hiding. And I guess it’s good to get that reminder every now and then, if only so the delusions don’t set into concrete.

Heroes, they take my breath away
Zero the dials
See how a breakdown breaks ground
And zeros the miles
-Devin Townsend, Nobody Here