Remission

Remission. What a nice word.

When you're in remission, you can't imagine ever being crazy sick again. Maybe a little paranoid, but not full-blown "episode" sick.

You do the laundry, feed the baby, make love to your husband--and you're well. You're lucid. You're in your right mind.

One thing is for sure, there was enough "energy" with my prior episodes to never forget sickness.

In a way, I'm not bipolar any more. I'm "in remission." But the funny thing is, it could come back at any time. Mania doesn't seem to strike any more, but depression does. Depression sinks over me, and then I'm done. I'm ill.

I miss mania. Last year, I really missed it. My life was so predictable. I wanted "the joy of happy mania," not "sad mania." Happy mania is a blast. You feel absolutely fabulous. You can to anything, understand everything. You're literally on top of the world.

I missed that. My remission was completely lack luster.

Maybe I should write a piece called "the drawbacks with remission."

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