Whatever Goes Down, Must Come Up

After months of let's call it seasonal depression, the fog lifts when robins start plopping around and the sun comes up much earlier. For a few days, a breeze of giddiness sets in and I'm joking, teasing and filled with happy songs in my head. An energy courses through my body. Thoughts of hope and plans and optimism race around in my brain. Who am I? Trying to reconcile this person with the normal me and the depressed me, I wonder what I am. Describing my mom to someone recently, I said that it was like having three moms - manic mom, depressed mom and normal mom. For me, being bipolar feels like three different pieces of the same fabric. The fabric of life, if you will. One piece that is a beautiful expression of the soul, an accurate representation of the personality. Another part shows threads interwoven made of sparkling gold and silver that shimmer and move with a life of their own, an uncontrollable magic carpet. With depression, the shimmer disappears and the fabric is left with emptiness where the sparkle was and a rotting away of the threads that can barely hold it together. But through ups and downs, the same basic pattern is there and that's how I hold onto myself: knowing that these extremes are part of my life but my true self is the part that is always there. Indestructible holy thread woven by God to create me. The creator raises me as a flag, representing His love. Whatever state my soul is in will suit His purpose at that time.