THE JAGGED EDGE

LIFE ON THE JAGGED EDGE

Write what you know they say,

but my mind responds:

“You know a whole lot of crap every day”.

This makes me feel bad most of the time

but then again, some episodes make me feel great

when I’m invincible, and capable of anything.

On the downside though, despair and hopelessness.

Sometimes it sets in with the push-me, pull-me of life.

My heart races so loudly that I can hear it

and the blood pounds in my ears.

Electric currents run up and down my skin

hyper-sensitive to everything.  

I need to sit in absolute silence and darkness

just to process what I’m feeling and try to figure things out.

Then I hope to hell I can pull myself out of this darkness once again.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears.

That ray of hope that reminds me: “I can do this”!

The spark is lit, and the cycle begins once again

just like the rollercoasters I rode upon

with their highs and lows that both terrified and elated.

When laughter swings me into tremendous joy

then the pendulum swings and the tears start to flow

and I feel I’m not worth a dime.

From tremendous highs to absolute lows,

and no middle ground in between.

No level platform on the rails of life.

Never knowing when the switch will occur

but feeling subtle changes like the twists and turns,

before sharp curves appear on a strange stretch

that I must travel every day without remembering

I have overcome this before.

You’d think it would get easier each time I traverse this path

but the daily struggle only grows more intense

in the fight to return to a semblance of normal.

The 15^th round of a knockout-boxing match

seems tame in comparison to what’s in my head.

Then the mania gives way to desolation and despair

and I mourn for that invincible me, there just yesterday.

Doubts, fears and insecurities take hold to overshadow

and take their toll until my sense of self disappears.

Replaced by a stranger, come in from the cold.

I no longer respond the way another might

and I’m embarrassed that this isn’t physical

and my recovery cannot be seen in the same light

as a healed broken bone or being cured of cancer.

There is fear on the faces of those who surround me

when they learn the nature of my illness.

It’s like an explosive, dirty uttered word

when they recoil and flinch in fear

that I may do something unexpected

or snap at the drop of a hat.  

Life lived in solitude and social isolation

has become the new norm

as no one wants that which is broken.

Misunderstandings all around,

insanity looking for sanity and sane looking for insane

in a world turned upside down on its head.

Moving from bouts of fury and rage

to melancholic or euphoric, benevolent acts

where nothing exists in between but bleak and dreary numbness.

I live life on the jagged edge

never knowing when I will tumble into the dark recesses of my mind.

No one understands and I cannot explain

nor can I show them what it’s like inside my head.

The echoing chambers, the labyrinth of my mind

where messages from the other side, in songs and music are heard.

The struggle to stay alive every day I travel this abyss.

With its unceasing appeals to end it all and stop the pain.

This is life in all its glory and all its darkness; at least for manic me.