The day after I was admitted to the psych hospital, I woke up full of emotion, tears flowing from the deepest part of my heart. I realized how much I love the world and I ached with the realization that I had voluntarily left the world behind to be locked up on the third floor of a psych ward. The first time I saw sunlight, I was brought to my knees with gratitude. My mind was filled with all of the things that I wanted to do after my discharge. I wanted to learn to cook and sew, take another editing course, play tennis, write, teach yoga, plant flowers and the list went on and on. Only now, a year and a half later, with hindsight, I can see that all of that passion, drive, and raw emotion was a product of my manic mind.
So, my mind was racing and I was manic, but does that mean that my experience should be discounted? This morning is when I realized that my tears and passion were coming from mania. However, along side that, I have the awareness that there was something about that state of mind and the heightened sense of gratitude that I was experiencing that brought me closer to my Source. Yes, most of what my mind was producing was useless nonsense. But the sense of gratitude and aching to live my life wasn't a dance with madness, it was dancing with the Divine.
There is great pain and beauty in my illness. My emotions run deeply, probably deeper than the average person. And that depth is both blessing and curse. As I write this post, both emotions are at war within my mind and body. I can only hope and pray that the awareness of blessing wins out today.