I.
I'm easing very slightly into politics and spirituality. Both of these topics are heavily controversial and in need of serious debate, but my desire is not to jump back into the frying pan or the fire.
I ended up in the hospital not of my own accord. A petition was filed against me, forcing me to go to the hospital against my will. I wish I hadn't had to leave for the hospital in handcuffs, but such things happen when people are afraid. People fear that which they do not understand.
I am aware that being this blunt, open, and brutally honest makes others who read this uncomfortable and may give ammunition to my enemies. I made a decision long ago to live my life without fear of being misunderstood. People fear that which they do not understand, and if I can provide a human face to bipolar disorder, then I have accomplished my purpose.
II.
Fourteen times. That's how many times I've been in a psychiatric ward.
This visit was rather front-loaded. The most interesting fellow patients I met at the first part of the visit. They were more intellectual, more middle class, more my people. More my element. The disparities between economics and class are very striking. I realized why I shunned where I came from, and the discomforting reality behind it. I understood why my parents left behind their working class roots. Confronting the ingrained stereotypes that characterize most people is a lonely experience. I felt a bit like I was back in high school, and pigeonholed as one of the smart kids.
III.
What worries me most is the impact I have made on other people. Drama and I have been friends on more than one occasion. The fireworks produced by this latest conflict within my self have begun to settle, albeit slowly. Those either unfortunate or fortunate to have traveled with me through the devastating highs and lows have ridden the roller coaster, too. I suppose I never was content to leave the field of play quietly.
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