A Hypomanic Episode

A Hypomanic Episode

A Poem by Livana Lowell
"

warning: contains explicit language. Continue at your own risk.

"
My hypomania wakes up in a white fur coat
feels her neck, 
brand new pearls resting around her throat
how did she afford this is just another thought
racing with other thoughts like black mustangs in the night
looks herself in the mirror and sees a golden crown,
on the band, wings made of wax and feathers.
Suns in her eyes and I'm counting down the time
when the wings will melt.
Until then, she's hanging out with goddesses
on clouds pampering her cheeks
her hair is on fleek
She looks in the mirror again,
this time, a crack and fog, in the reflection.
Sees every impulse dashing across her face
like cars on a highway. 
She calls herself Ishtar because she's
in war, love, and a sexy red dress. 
She will ride the skies this night.
She's fun to have around. She cracks jokes
and always tells me to live life to the fullest
like a soccer mom who's way too into the sport
But she follows me everywhere: when I go to class
in the store aisles, as I drive in traffic, at home 
when all I want to do is treat her like a light switch. Turn her off. 
Or when all I want to do is treat her like a friendly neighbor
and ask her to leave, but no. She doesn't leave. 
She sits in the living room chair, a cigarette in one hand
a bottle of ever-clear in the other, pretending they 
are prescription bottles. Then she goes to bed with some
guy or woman she's captured with a single hello 24 hours ago. 
She'll glance at this woman or man sleeping next to her
with fire in her throat when just awhile ago, there was honey.

I wake up without a fur coat or pearls,
bleeding from my wrists not knowing how the hell I got there. 
I smell like sweat, unsure if the sweat is from sex 
or from always trying to run away from my diagnosis, 
trying to pretend it isn't there,
because people always tell me, "It's normal to have mood swings." 

The wings on the crown finally begin to melt.
The gold band turns to gilt.
Ishtar is falling into the netherworld. 
And the thoughts stop racing. They drop like heavy rain
on my lap. Clear. Loud. Leaves me trembling against my bedroom door,
not wanting to live this way anymore. 
I am forced to look out the window,
and wonder if jumping out of it would be akin
to finally escaping my skin. I spend so many hours in bed
afraid of my own head 
afraid of forgetting who I am
because I've worked so hard to figure that out. 
I'm not my disorder and I'm not crazy.

So, I take a walk at 1 AM from my apartment
all across campus to distract myself from Ishtar
and my crushing depressive thoughts,
look at my college logo on the football stadium,
remember how far I've come, and continue walking forward
until the ups and downs stop and I can breathe again. 

© 2017 Livana Lowell



Author's Note

Livana Lowell
Ishtar is the Mesopotamian goddess of love, sex, death, and war.

This is the darker side of hypomania. I know some people love it, but sometimes having all these racing thoughts and high af sex drive kinda sucks.

My Review

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Featured Review

two sides of the same coin...the battle within...two people have become one...or perhaps the other way around...one person becomes two...and one is trying to breathe again, the other self is too dominant...marvelous psychological journey in this one...

j.

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Yes. I can identify fully with your description of mania from my own experience. It is exciting at the time but so scary when you return to normality.
We'll done livana.
Regards. Alan

Posted 1 Week Ago


two sides of the same coin...the battle within...two people have become one...or perhaps the other way around...one person becomes two...and one is trying to breathe again, the other self is too dominant...marvelous psychological journey in this one...

j.

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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76 Views
2 Reviews
Added on November 5, 2017
Last Updated on November 5, 2017
Tags: mental illness, hypomania, psychosis, reality, Bipolar Disorder

Author

Livana Lowell
Livana Lowell

Huntsville, TX



About
Sooo, hello guys! Not much to say about me. I've been a writer since I was in kindergarten. I used to write stories about dinosaurs surviving the meteor (my favorites ones usually lived) because I had.. more..

Writing