We All Move Uneasily Within Our Restraints.

I Realized That It Was Not That I Didn’t Want To Go On Without Him. I Did. It Was Just That I Didn’t Know Why I Wanted To Go On

But Then Back On Lithium And Rotating On The Planet At The Same Pace As Everyone Else, You Find Your Credit Is Decimated, Your Mortification Complete: Mania Is Not A Luxury One Can Easily Afford. It Is Devastating To Have The Illness And Aggravating To Have To Pay For Medications, Blood Tests, And Psychotherapy. They, At Least, Are Partially Deductible. But Money Spent While Manic Doesn't Fit Into The Internal Revenue Service Concept Of Medical Expense Or Business Loss. So After Mania, When Most Depressed, You're Given Excellent Reason To Be Even More So.

I Compare Myself With My Former Self, Not With Others. Not Only That, I Tend To Compare My Current Self With The Best I Have Been, Which Is When I Have Been Midly Manic. When I Am My Present "normal" Self, I Am Far Removed From When I Have Been My Liveliest, Most Productive, Most Intense, Most Outgoing And Effervescent. In Sort, For Myself, I Am A Hard Act To Follow.

As Best I Could Make Out, Having Never Heard The Term Until I Arrived In California, Being A Wasp Meant Being Mossbacked, Lockjawed, Rigid, Humorless, Cold, Charmless, Insipid, Less Than Penetratingly Bright, But Otherwise---and Inexplicably---to Be Envied.

Others Would Say To Me, 'it Is Only Temporary, It Will Pass, You Will Get Over It,' But Of Course They Had No Idea How I Felt, Although They Were Certain That They Did. Over And Over And Over I Would Say To Myself, If I Can't Feel, If I Can't Move, If I Can't Think, And I Can't Care, Then What Conceivable Point Is There In Living?