I am On the Sly and this is my blog.I am On the Sly and I am a blue bird of happiness. I fly and twitter and dance and sing.
I am On the Sly and I am also a black dog of depression. I sleep and cry and mope and want to light myself on fire.
I am On the Sly and I am Bipolar. So you will find two different tones in the writing of this blog so beforehand, apologies.
It all started in Highschool, my father began to act strange. He would snap at the smallest thing, spend hours upon hours in his shed up until midnight, take long drives in his car and all in all was quite unpleasant to be around. Every Christmas my mother would take us, my sister and I, on an hour trip to where he was staying in the mental wing of a Hospital. We would spend the day together walking around the zoo or botanic gardens which were both conveniently located close by then we would travel back home without him. This was the start of his journey and of mine.
I never liked boys when I was in school, or girls, or anything really. I had a group of close friends who giggled and crushed on whichever boy that was currently in fashion and I would just nod and smile and agree. At times it suddenly felt like gravity would increased four-fold and air did not exist, a sudden weight bearing down on me and I couldn't breathe, and I would wake up on the floor with tears streaming from my eyes but limp as a soggy tissue am unable to move. I never went to parties or anywhere I would be forced to socialise with my peers, I couldn't see the point of it since in the end the only thing that is certain is yourself so why bother trying to please others?
I went to University and a blue bird landed on my shoulder. I spent a year and a half in sheer bliss. I can't remember much of what happened, I made a few good friends, did average in my subjects... that's all I can really recollect.
Something changed, the bird flew away and the dog came back. I slipped back into my anti-social self but I had some true friends who helped me and I begun treatment. It's been 3 years, I have had 48 blood-tests, some tablets that I took made me feel neusaus all day, some gave me headaches, others I took in abundance to make the tears stop and now, I seem to take the right amount, of the right concoction.
Most Manic-Depressive are reported to stop taking the tablets once they are 'level' and I can understand why. While the Depression is contained, so is the Mania. I miss dancing and singing to the music in my head, I miss laughing so much my sides ache, I miss the bubbles in my previous personality. I don't miss burning myself with lighters, I don't miss being afraid to drive my car incase the urge to drive into a truck becomes to much to suppress, I don't miss feeling like a worthless piece of shit no matter how beautiful and smart I try to convince myself I am.
Part of my therapy was suppose to be keeping a mood journal try track and in the future, predict mood swings. I detest thinking people will pick up a physical journal and say, "Oh, On the Sly wrote this. What an overemotional psycho bitch." The anonmity of the internet appeals to me so here it is, opening myself to people while keeping my guard up.
I am On the Sly and Together we are...
