Fifteenth

All day staring at the ceiling

Making friends with shadows on my wall

All night hearing voices telling me

That I should get some sleep

Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on

Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown

And I don't know why

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

It seems that medication is a double-edged sword. The pain and confusion that comes with unmedicated mental illness is swept away with a regimen of chemicals into the brain. Unfortunately, with the symptoms also go the magic and wonder that comes with seeing the beauty in a seemingly crystal clear manic state.  Clarity is gone, hidden under the haze of medicated lethargy.

It is difficult. Creativity is stifled. I used to get awards for my writing. I used to be praised. All of my teachers in school told my parents that I would be a famous author one day. I scored a 2200 on the SAT. I am a certifiable genius. I could have joined MENSA. But every day that I pop those psychotropic drugs, the foggier my mind becomes. It is my burden. It is my curse. If I want to create and live as carefree as when I was young, I could go off of the medications. But at what cost? To lose my ability to be patient and teach my young daughter? To lose every interpersonal relationship I have? To lose the ability to work and provide for myself – an ability that is even still fought for every day with my sweat and tears?

There are no easy solutions for a bipolar person. For a pagan, it is even more painful. While we may find peace the light of the moon or with our respective deities, our spirit guides, our totem animals, our sense of duty to be good to ourselves and those things that are ours is pivotal to our spiritual development. As a Goddess worshiper, I am acutely aware of my failings as I cycle into the Mother phase of my life. I simultaneously pine for the past and my Maiden stage as I crave and hunger for the knowledge that will lead me into success as a woman in my Crone stage. There is no easy way. The sooner the bipolar pagan learns this, the better.  

When I was young, I was a wild child

Sunshine, grass stains, mud piles

Skinning my knee was a battle scar

I was afraid of monsters, but not the dark

With the dawn, I’d run so far

Exploring every secret place, every park

Today I choke and gasp for air

Seeking magick everywhere

Only duty to hold me down

I will die without a sound.

"WildChild" Copyright 2013 - Heather Rivero

**Lyrics From"Unwell" by Matchbox 20