Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
I was diagnosed as bipolar before it was trendy. I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder which means anxiety is in jest, my default emotion in truth.
A friend on Facebook posted pics of famous people also diagnosed as bipolar. They all smiling, looking perfectly normal. Why? Because normal is a setting on a washing machine.
I would love to see your mental illness. This is me:
Break the stigma. If you have diabetes, you would say so, being treated for a mental illness is no different.
I wish you the spin cycle,
Wenchy
There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendously.
The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people.
Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one’s marrow.
But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends’ faces are replaced by fear and concern.
Everything previously moving with the grain is now against– you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.
Kay Redfield Jamison,
An Unquiet Mind:
A Memoir of Moods and Madness
Nocturnal Wenchy 
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