Archive for February 6th, 2007

So as I’ve been in a bit of a blogging “funk” lately, I dug out my ancient Mac PowerBook last night to look at some of my old writing.

For those of you Macheads out there, you’ll get a laugh out of this. It’s a 5300cs. Basically a glorified typewriter/paperweight these days. With the emphasis on the “weight” part. It’s not even fit for an internet connection. It still cranks away, though. It only froze on me once and gave me one disk error when I transferred this to a floppy disk to move it to a PC to place it here.

Yes, a floppy disk. Who uses those anymore?! I had to scavenge my desk at work to even try to find one!

I should try to rescue what’s on it before it dies altogether although I think I have most of what’s there in hardcopy form somewhere in the house?

Anyway, I wrote this a a few years ago. I can’t quite remember when. I’m not sure if I like it or not. But it was written at a time in a place to capture a moment so here it is. And I have a thing for water. I just realized that as it also came up in my “writing assignment” from Cathy’s “I Shall Not Waste My Days In Trying To Prolong Them” here.

I found something else, a fairly short story that I had started but it needs some further work so I think I may post that in the future as well.


Battling the ocean is what it’s like. Inside your body. The waves crash up against you inside. That almighty, amorphous sea that has lived for ages and shaped the earth now fills such a tiny space that is you and it is now up to you to try and tame it. That is what bipolar feels like. That same force that has moved icebergs, created continents, slain dinosaurs and destroyed battleships is now your own Demon.

It “feels” like the waves of the ocean inside you. As your moods shift, you have a “high tide,” and a “low tide.” At times there is a palpable, physical, internal force as you try to resist the internal change. And sometimes you can even get nauseous. A seasickness perhaps? For you feel it coming.

I can it feel it coming. I know the struggle. Sometimes I resist and sometimes I welcome the waves crashing in like old friends. This is bipolar. This is my bipolar. An endless ebb and flow. An endless cycle, older than all its sufferers.

Ever more it will take in its wake.