🌘❄️ “Hello darkness my old friend…..” ❄️🌒
The winter has returned and Bipolar Depression visits once more. So what does Bipolar Depression actually feel like for me personally?
Here is a creative piece I penned and posted last year.
“Recovery in the bluest of darks : Maree Tambasco-Roche
My exhausted mind wheezed under the weight of depression. A dark, cumbersome blackness that refused to yield. Warning all kindness, assistance and gratitude to keep its distance. Its tight fisted hand boarded the fractured, dirty windows and locked the heavy doors. Captive and alone without respite.
Trapped inside, melancholia quietly descended into my soul like a dense fog. It poured itself into every gap and seam as my mind and body froze suspended in time. Drooping and obscuring the light until I was all but a shadow of my former self. The impermeable cold had become intense as the bluest of darks thickened. Unending, agitating and inconvenient.
Warmth and sunshine had very little influence. Indifference iced the stark interiors of my soul and refused to thaw. A long, bitter night had set in. Hard and sharp, the door slammed shut.
Shivered silence stilled my private night. It echoed against the oppressive depth in hues of varied loneliness.
Inside lay a galaxy of scissored skies and paper stars. Right sided, glitter shone in a bright sparkle of gregarious gold. Carefully pasted upside down, facing backwards, the white side of starlight remained hidden. It was my secret night sky of thin guarantees and two dimensional promises. Rules of approval lined the walls of my galaxy with epiphanies and pontifications. I presented myself certificates of professional merit and pretended self worth. With nods of submission and deceitful handshakes I obeyed on my knees. Compassion, gentleness along with any skerrick kindness had long vanished into the biting cold air.
I morphined my integrity with sharp injections of good abuse as I bartered myself worthless in the seat of my universe. The clock froze in the still and untold hours. Soaked to the bone in deep depression, security blankets refused to keep me warm. Tiptoeing, I bound myself tightly with a thousand paper chains of shame and anxiety.
Presentation night over, a job well done.
A distant tune ensnared on the player, caught the tired melody. Fear and loneliness entered the dance floor as the record turned once again to play the same song. I swayed because I could no longer hear. I danced so I could sing again. Unexpected recovery and hope danced with me, silent, feint, yet increasingly present in its tapping persistence. Without permission, it became my dance partner under a thousand eyes of disapproving stars.
Rocking on my heels of resistance, deliberate slowness pieced together my equal parts and danced with momentous spirit that sliced up the icy fear.
Fractured glass shattered across my soul unfiltering raw light within. It crunched under my feet as I continued to dance. Fear and loneliness exited to the left. Resilience took its place. Through the soldered leadlight, the shards to glass jigsawed together a new picture of colour, a kaleidoscope of trauma shining the cracked light through beauty and splendiferousness.
Abandoned and powerless, the wilted two dimensional stars fell away, right side up, forward facing, white. In melted puddles of recovery, a new song played.
The drips of thaw echoed in the deafened room. The oppressive weight submitted. Creaking across the solitary room the bolted door unlocked. Arms raised, my eyes unaccustomed and suspicious to the bright salve of good will and courage.
Unfamiliar gladness and healing lowered my arms. Security took my hands and guided me, until my eyes adjusted to the luminous sheen on Recovery Road. Behind the ruins lay bare, ahead, my house of new normal. With ripped souveniered paper stars in my pocket – I move forward to the next.