Since I’m awake, I thought I’d write about this discovery.
I’ve been reading old journals. This is something I wrote in July 2005:
I’ve been having rather dramatic mood swings lately. I wake up in the morning a raging egomaniac, convinced that a dozen easy paths to fame and riches lie open to me. In the afternoon I am steeped in self-recrimination, preoccupied by some idiotic thing I said five years ago. In the evening I am inspired to dip my feet in the creek and sit for an hour, mesmerized and moved to tears by the beauty of the moonlight on the water. At night I lie awake, breathing the unloving darkness in gasps, bone-lonesome ’til I sleep.
That was 2005. There were a lot of journal entries from that fall.
Of course, I didn’t recognize this as mania at the time. I didn’t know I was bipolar until 2007, when I had my first full-blown manic episode. An episode that resulted in many things, including the dramatic explosion of my life in New York.
Then go back to fall/winter of 2003/4, and I find most of the poetry I ever wrote. Which is significant because hypertextuality is a hallmark symptom of mania. Rhyming, punning, and spontaneously beginning to write poetry, even for people who have had no previous interest in poetry, are all quite typical symptoms of a manic episode.
Fast-forward to 2009, and I find my second full-manic episode, which, though less dramatic overall, led to the commission of a crime thatlanded me in prison for a year.
So my discovery is this: 2003, 2005, 2007, 2009. It seems to happen every other year, towards the fall.