He knew he must now come to terms with the disease he had fought and carried his entire life. The catch was of course that by seeking normalcy and healing, he would be clear at last, just in time to watch everything he loved be taken and altered before his very eyes. He was torn in two. Knowing that to survive he must fight but knowing full well that the fight was in vain.
The last wave of mania had been the most destructive. It had almost killed him twice, but it was far from the only white capped beast that had entered and leveled the landscape of his life. His uncontrolled and unstoppable actions had rolled through their lives like a tornado for years, creating division, mistrust and animosity. Friends were hurt, children were confused, his wife was baffled, and he was destroyed.
There were times of peace, permanence and growth, once five unimpeded, magical rotations of the decades insistent tick. The people he added to his constantly growing and decreasing list of contacts had no hint of the paradox that lay dormant in his mind. There was calm, success, and unconditional love.
The opening act of the tragedy was always nuisance. It always went unnoticed and was easily dismissed as a Bi product of stress or environment. It might be as inconvenient as a succession of skipped bed time stories or a series of ignored farewell kisses. It was always simple. It was always forgiven, not mentally connected to the submerged bulk of the iceberg. It was however, just the opening volley, a shot across the bow. No one deeply injured but as in most conflicts, the destruction must be precipitated by a innocuous unheeded opening volley.
YOU ARE READING
UNCONDITIONAL
General FictionA story of unconditional love of unrequited loss, and an unexpected rise from the ashes. A first and second hand look at Bipolar disorder and divorce; the destruction caused by an unquiet mind, and the courage needed to face it.
