Oh, I well know
Been there; didn't do that. There's bipolarity in my family history. To the extent I've shared it, the syndrome has been low-frequency: the manic phase generally manifests itself as a few weeks of undifferentiated glowing well-being; the depressive as a prolonged sense of numbness, unhappiness and anxiety. In the 40+ years since I attained my full growth, I've had two or three full-blown manic episodes, which were scary in retrospect but done with in under twelve hours, followed each by crashes during each of which self-slaughter appeared in the light of a perfectly reasonable coping strategy. In the profoundest of these, which fortunately took me from sea level to the Marianas Trench and back in just 24 hours, I would have been perfectly prepared to take my own life, but lacked the energy to effect this project. Part of the operative despair had to do with the fact that at the center of this crisis I had contrived to make almost the entire cast of my former support network somewhat reluctant to intervene. I don't mean for this to sound sordid: I'd merely become rather high-maintenance. In the event, of course, I endured that dark night of the soul. I wish to fuck that Greg had as well.
cordially,
cordially,
