Monday, March 2, 2015


I just found this piece that I wrote when I was two weeks out of the hospital. It's interesting to me that

I thought I wasn't manic anymore, but what I've written sounds slightly grandiose.

What do you think? Here it is:

I read books for the newly diagnosed, watch Stephen Fry’s documentary The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive, do whatever I can to educate myself about this illness, and eventually find a nearby support group.
As I park my car in the First Presbyterian parking lot, I realize that this meeting is where I am supposed to be, where I belong. It’s not as though I’m about to attend my first AA group, a group which isn’t applicable to me. I’ve gotten out of the psych hospital two weeks prior; my diagnosis is Bi-polar I severe, recurrent with psychosis. My mania was undeniable, no getting around the fact that the diagnosis fits me. I can walk into this group knowing that I’m in the right place, which is oddly comforting  that I have a name for what is ailing me, yet disconcerting that I am truly mentally ill.
As I walk into the room, before group has officially begun, I hear talk about Halloween, Six Flags and insane asylums. I know instantly that I have found the correct meeting room. These are my people. Quirky, smart, creative, morbid, and at times crazy as hell.
Before I’ve even taken my seat, I feel that I should, or at least want to, run the group. However, the group facilitator seems quite knowledgeable, wonderful and qualified  to run the group, whereas I have absolutely zero qualifications. But my master’s degree in counseling and the few talks and articles that I’ve given and written confirm, in my mind at least, that I should be running the group. I love the attention and, as I mentioned repeatedly during my hospital stay, I’ve got the master’s degree in counseling, so obviously I should be in charge. The fact that I’m newly diagnosed and am in the process of educating myself about my illness has no bearing on me.

In my heart I want to take over the group because the grandiose side of me needs to be seen; needs to be the best; needs respect and admiration lest I disappear and am forgotten about forever which is my deepest fear. My heart and mind screaming out please don’t leave me. Please see how wonderful I am and celebrate me as I believe I should be celebrated. If I’m not seen I don’t exist.

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