You know what’s not fair? I didn’t ask to take on the life of Abigail Johnson. I never signed a permission slip. There was no waiver, no terms and conditions. Nobody told me what I’d go through.
I have always been the unstable one. I got no warning for it. It just was. Emotional breakdowns in the middle of class. Disorganization, no discipline. I was the kid the teachers worried about. Emails were always going home, wondering about my emotional health. In and out of the guidance office. It’s always been this way. Did I sign up for it? No, I never did. I was thrust into this life. And anyone who tells me I chose this can go stick a cactus up their ass. I tried to make myself not depressed, but it doesn’t work that way. Try growing another arm. I was thirteen, and it all went unnoticed. And then guess what? My high. The fog lifted, and I bounced into the atmosphere. Deep down, I knew I was superior to everyone. Creativity oozed out of me. I’d stay up into the middle of the night writing, designing my characters, and feel energized. I was angry, I was sunshine, I was incredible. It was never going to end. But it did, like I said, these highs never last. The low came again, and it was even worse. I am in the midst of another high. The strange thing is, I kind of love it. I love having no inhibitions. I can talk to anyone. I can make conversation with a stranger, anywhere. I feel better than ever. I’m filled with euphoria and desire. I feel like the chorus of the most beautiful song.
And at the same time, it can be frustrating. People assume that because my mind is quick, I can answer immediately. But my thoughts trip over each other. Even when I appear quiet, I can’t slow my mind down. I cannot be still. I have the attention span of a bumblebee. The worst thing of all, though, is knowing how much it will hurt when it all comes crashing down once again. I know better than most that what comes up, must come down. The higher the high, the farther you have to fall.
Is this honestly the way to live? In the back of my mind, I fear the crash. I fear my life of extremes. When I’m up, I’m up; but when I’m down, I’m dismal.
I’m afraid, at the same time, that all my medications will make me boring. Will I lose my ability to be creative? If I had to choose between my ups and my downs, I’d take the ups any day, even with their frustrations. I don’t want to be boring. I feel like it has to be this way. Eeyore or Tigger. Flaming orange or grey-blue. I don’t want to be boring. My meds will make me boring. But I want to be stable, for once in my life, I want to be stable. Do I have to choose between boring and stable?
Sometimes I wonder, why does everyone think I’m ill? I’m not ill; I’m happy! I’m great! I feel wonderful, I feel like a cloud. Illness should feel bad, right? I try to convince everyone I’m not ill, but my parents, they tell me I’m not normal. They say it’s not normal when I talk like there’s a hot coal on my tongue, when my thoughts are going so fast I can’t even keep up with them, and sometimes I even start stuttering because my mouth can’t follow. They say it’s not normal. They say I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m not well, they say.
Would everyone rather me feel like shit? I’m feeling royal, and everyone is concerned. Sometimes I think there’s nothing wrong with me at all. Everyone’s euphoric, everyone’s energetic, everyone’s a hot coal mouth. Right? I’m afraid, because my meds will make me depressed again. For me, I can’t imagine stability because I sort of feel like it’s never been there. It’s one or the other, I feel like. Sure, I’ve been stable, but it’s so fleeting. I mapped out my moods from January 2013 to now. It’s funny, almost. It’s strange. I can visually see myself swinging from one to the other.
I’m confused. I want to be normal, but I don’t want to be normal. Is normal boring?
I don’t want to be boring. I want to be stable. I just think stability is terribly dry.