Happy is a crime

via Pelfusion.com

The shades of bipolar are mystifying.  It's bad enough to HAVE the emotions, to be in them and make the sordid attempt to deal with them.  Yet what has frustrated me is this: these people didn't know me before... with the moments where I disappeared into psychosis or raged in a manic flux or chased pigeons because the Grate God told me to.  So on one hand I have their opinion that I need to harden the hell up and knowing that MY GOD I have come SO FAR.

But then there is another crux.  Gotta love all the branching variations of the ways happiness is a problem.  When I am doing WELL... it is a boggle to them... it doesn't make sense.  There are a multiple range of responses.  Everything from well why don't you just be this way all the time to if you can be like this why the hell did you act like blah blah at such and such a time.

Then it gets worse.  There are the people that actually care.  That watch helplessly from the water's edge as you drown.  There is nothing they can do.

Then there is the personal turmoil: knowing that invariably we are filled to be emptied again.  That undoubtedly the rug shall be removed from beneath us.  That's just the way it is.