Having a mental illness is a trip. I mean it. It can be a roller coaster, or an ocean liner. Some days I wake up perfectly fine, only to totally lose it by noon. The most common place things can suddenly become demonic and frightening. People I love and trust can, in an instant, seem to be trying to kill me. Like I said…it’s a trip.
Schizoaffective Disorder Bipolar Type II is my diagnosis. A mouthful to be sure. And with it comes a catalogue of symptoms that could scare the Hulk. I have lived with this illness for all of my adult life but was undiagnosed until I turned 42. That’s a long time to suffer: think about it. So I lived most of my life in secret. I kept the secret from friends and family alike and it was exhausting. When symptoms beset me I would hide in my room or apartment until they passed, which they almost always did with time. But also, during that time I was trying to carve out a career as an actor/singer both in the US and in England. I was a juggler with chainsaws, pure and simple. A precarious existence, don’t you think?
Today is a good day. So far. Wish me luck and keep me in your thoughts. I have shit I have to do today and can’t afford a trip down the hole into the dark pit. Stay tuned, folks.