I wrote the following two years ago.
Before you were diagnosed did you wonder why certain books, poems, artists, musicians, writers, composers, movies, etc. resonated with you? Did you feel a kinship with its characters, story, background? Did you look in the looking glass, fall down that rabbit hole, take a walk on the wild side in your imagination long before it became a crack in your real world? I have always felt that kinship though it was years before I understood why. The passion and the pain are so profound. I have flown like Icarus so close to the sun and had my wings burned plummeting to the earth faster than the speed of sound, the ears ringing, the mind spinning, the heart beating wildly in my chest, thinking I would die before I hit the ground. You lay there broken, beaten, bleeding and unable to function, fragments of a formal self scattered everywhere, wondering if you shall ever walk, let alone fly again. You gradually begin to crawl, one foot in front of the other, doing all you can to gain your strength. As much as you enjoyed that momentary ecstatic magic, the descent into madness is terrifying. You cannot be there for others when your wings are broken, when you are in a cage, bruised and broken and unable to function. It takes time to process what happened to you. It takes time to find the right treatment and it takes courage to ask for help.
Lynn-Marie.
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