Sonata

Each person has a song. Many think that songs with words, with a voice, are the most powerful and most beautiful, but I respectfully disagree. The sonata, devoid of a human voice, but bountiful in the beautiful, natural resonance of the universe, is truly the most beautiful, I believe. Every song is utterly unique, played literally for a lifetime. And these songs often overlay upon others’ songs, creating a symphony of sorts. When two songs clash, and simply aren’t harmonious, they either remain horrid to the ear, or they depart until a harmonious tune is found. Many symphonies have moments of cacophony to provoke emotions, especially that which is difficult to bear and hard on the ears, only to return to the beautiful essence that was invoked from an individual’s very soul.

So what is your sonata? What does it sound like? How has it crossed and blended with others’ sonatas? Most sonatas are epics, are journeys for the mind and soul. But some are cut all too short, and make but brief, yet often quite powerful, songs. Tempos often vary, within each song, creating turbulence and calm, excitement and lethargy, happiness and sadness. There are spikes in pitch, as well as lows. No matter what, though, each and every song is a work of art. Something truly beautiful comes from each individual’s sonata.

My sonatas feel like they could be embodied across the vast range of Ludwig van Beethoven. Within a single song, he can make a lament, and then suddenly increase to something exciting and joyful, and then return to the slower, deeper, more lethargic elegy. Bipolar is a synonym for someone who’s life is inevitably beautiful, whether through tragedy or triumph. Sometimes the triumph comes completely from the tragedy, like a phoenix rising from the ashes and the flames, and then soaring into the sky and embodying the sun and the stars that provide us light, both utterly illuminating, and through the inevitable darkness. Moonlight Sonata and Fur Elise seem to touch my soul the most, at least as of yet. I’m not connoisseur, much to my dismay, and I know that those are two of his most popular songs, but perhaps there is a reason behind that. While many are moved by the two songs, and perhaps they do in fact touch their souls, I believe them to embody my very life essence. I’m not moved; rather, I am. I hear those songs I know that I am them.

As I see and hear the song of my life playing before me, progressing as I do, my soul feels enlightened. My eyes close and my heart opens up. Through four days of... a fairly strong depression, I’ve come to feel... high. It honestly feels like I took opioids, and yet I haven’t taken anything. I’ve spent most of my time for a few days, and for so many hours, just laying down, sleeping, or barely remaining conscious. I’ve been somewhat out of myself, and yet so aware. It’s like I’m meditating while walking about, and while utterly present. I went from feeling so, so heavy... hopelessly unable to even lift myself up, to feeling like I’m walking upon clouds. And yet, I still feel terribly heavy. It’s like my insides are made of stone, but my skin, and an aura around me, are lighter than helium, lighter than hydrogen!, lifting this heavy, awkward body into the clouds, higher and higher, until I’m past the atmosphere, and I see the glory of our world before my very eyes. And then I turn around and see the greater glory of the universe around me. This deep depression brought me joy and the ability to see clearer, and yet I fear it will be fleeting, and I will return to my ignorant, awkward, bulky, heavy self, or perhaps my oblivious, energetic, light self. Either way, oblivious or ignorant, I will be once again blinded and unaware.

But these most powerful of moods - especially the lower I go, rather than higher - the purer my soul. It’s like these occasionally, magnificent depressions are a form of ritual purification and trial after my soul becomes overly burdened by darkness and impurities. I know what it feels like to be high off of narcotics - legally, of course... The pain of my body sometimes requires their powerful effects. But I also know what it’s like to have very high manias and very low depressions without any outside agents. My own body is capable of recreating the effects of those powerful narcotic drugs without even needing such things. I know what it’s like to be addicted to drugs, and what the feelings of drugs are like, not from taking them, but simply from being who I am and experiencing life as I do, naturally. It’s beautiful and tragic. It’s a war inside me - a war for my soul. And it’s impossible to truly tell which side will, or has, won... until the dust has settled, and it is all concluded. Not until one force is totally destroyed by the other will I know which side one.

But this war waged inside me is not something terrible, necessarily. Some wars are necessary, especially those which are spiritual. Sometimes one has to prove its dominance over the other. Sometimes one has to struggle to survive against another. And struggles are what really mold the individual, for better or worse. Whichever side is winning will determine which side the soul deviates. Shall it be pure and grand, or shall it be impure and poisonous? My bipolar is truly a journey toward enlightenment, and when the war is ended, and I’ve died, all will become revealed, and it will be evident who I truly am, and where I truly lie. I have struggled very much, and so I have been molded more and more into something great, whether great for the better reasons, or for the worse.

Many raving maniacs are actually truly enlightened. This kind of enlightenment brings about something utterly irrational and incomprehensible, and sometimes this does a number to the mind. Their souls know, and their minds try to know, and they can’t help but spew the incoherent, otherworldly mess for all to hear. I hear it... Like whispers. And my spirit whispers back, so subtly and quietly. It is not in the mind, but in the spirit and the soul that this is heard. There are not voices, nothing even comparable to our universe, and yet something in me understands. My mind is boggled, and I cannot recreate it so that others may hear, but I can merely attempt to exemplify a mere, faint shadow of its greatness.

And though I am so euphoric, I am so tired... so sleepy. My eyes struggle to stay open, though it’s not even noon. I’ve slept for so many hours previously, and yet my body and my brain beg for more rest. My body remains like stones on the inside, full of granite, too heavy to hardly lift. I wish to faint, to simply snap asleep, almost comatose, as each movement requires grand effort. Perhaps... this is my cross to bear. And yet, I cyclically go through this. From the joy of life, to the burden of my cross and death, to the grand rebirth, and back to life. It replies over and over and over. Sometimes it’s a mere reflection, distorted in ripples and waves... and yet, other times, it’s as clear and real as can be.

My sonata...

A Hitchhiker's Guide to My Mind...iverse.

I want to try and make a basic outline of how my mind works, how to attempt to traverse it, and the various common qualities of different moods/phases/areas. It's more in a hope that others might be able to avoid certain issues in the future. First, some basic background. I am bipolar I - I rapidly cycle, usually from day to day - or at most week to week - between moods that are typically either depressed or manic (or mildly depressed or hypomanic), with brief and somewhat uncommon pauses of relative normalcy. There are also some fairly frequent minor 'mixed states,' which blend two extremes into a more volatile combination, usually leaning toward depressed, and some much more occasional major spikes. The major spikes tend to also be mixed states, and - while I could be wrong because I don't have enough data yet - they go in a monthly cycle. I know... it's my 'period.' If I start ripping your face off with words, getting really irritable, switching from seemingly happy and extroverted to reclusive and introverted... well, you just might ask me, "Is it that time of the month?" in which case I might just want to rip your face off... or laugh. Who knows?

::::Geography::::

My mind has mountain peaks and low valleys, volcanoes and soothing hot springs, burning deserts and frozen tundras, flat plains and rolling hills... You name the geographical feature, my mind has it. Now, if you go outside and you look at a hill, you can easily identify it as a hill. You look at the topography of my mind, and it might be a little more difficult because these ain't yo nomull evruh-deh heeeeels, ya siy? Also, by my kooky sounding spelling, one might think I was more toward the 'higher' spectrum, whereas I'm actually in a mixed mood right now that's heavily leaning toward the depressive side. Literally every moment feels unbearable and dazing, yet I frequently cover it up with nonsensical jokes and fake smiles. I'm also actually in a lot of pain right now from my fibromyalgia, and I've had increased anxiety lately. So do you think you can so easily identify the geographical features of my mind, especially now? Well, let's go over some of the more basic qualities of my psychological topography so that you could better identify these features without necessarily stuffing your brain so full you have an aneurysm.

---High Ground---
Mountains:

There are two primary kinds of mountains - volcanoes and just plain giant heaps of rock. Volcanoes are perhaps the most relevant for those around me, yet perhaps the least common, as well. Volcanoes are moods that are big enough to be mountains, but with the added quality of being very volatile, and potentially dangerous. 90% of the time, a volcano will be a mixed state (reminder - a combination of depression and mania that creates an explosive and/or volatile compound.) Mixed states are much less common for me, and they usually aren't quite mountains/volcanoes, either. I'm not sure, yet, as I've only recorded about a month of my mood patterns so far, but from what I've recorded, I have a hypothesis that my volcanic mixed states come along roughly once every month. My mood can flip flop, I can be extremely irritable, I can seem extremely difficult to get a read off, I can seem unpredictable, I can explode in your face and melt it right off with words alone, I can become extremely anxious and worried, I can be irritable and difficult to work with, I can become extremely emotional, and it essentially becomes no holds barred. A bit of my steam was relieved from a recent eruption, so I'm not quite so unstable at the moment, but one eruption doesn't necessarily mean that another won't come. These moods also tend to last longer than my normal moods - as long as a week! Usually, there's some build up as well as a gradual decline after reaching the peak. The best tactic when you see a volcano? Well... stay away from it, you daredevil dumbass! What else do you think you should do? Climb to the top and take a swan dive?

The other kind of mountain is just tall and imposing. While there may be some minor qualities of one mood type when it's dominantly another, the little fragments are usually of sub-clinical and fairly irrelevant levels. For instance, I might go through a depressive episode but have a number of ideas and be unable to sleep. Does this mean I'm in a mixed state? Nope, not at all. A lot of ideas and difficulty sleeping has never made a hypomanic mood on its own. Sure, a mixed mood doesn't always necessarily need to have a full blown hypomanic mood on top of a full blown depression, or a full blown mania on top of a full-blown/moderate depression, but the symptoms of either are usually quite significant and contribute considerably to the volatile nature of a mixed state. Note that there are no real 'depressive mountains,' as depressions are typically lows, like valleys. The only real exception is a mixed state, but it has a giant pit in the centre filled with scolding hot magma that goes below the earth's crust.. so I'd say that the 'low' kind of makes its way into there. Anyway, mania mountains tend to have very sharp peaks and both rise and decline very quickly. They're usually fairly short-lived, seldom lasting more than a couple of days. It's ironic how a person in a flight of mania might feel like they can move mountains when their mania can seem as imposing and 'high' as a mountain.


Hills:

Hills are usually mania-related and can be quite frequent and rolling. This are usually enjoyable for both those around me and myself. Usually a hill is when I seem more positive, more energetic, full of ideas, perhaps more talkative, and overall more kooky - but markedly less of all of those than mania mountains. Hills denote hypomania. This is the happy-fun-times of bipolar. This is when the bipolar person is still relatively in their right mind, but are obviously 'higher' than normal. Admittedly, it can also sometimes just feel a little bit 'happier' and 'energetic' than usual to the bipolar person themselves and those around them. Hypomania seldom, if ever, gets a person hospitalised, and they're even often overlooked by the world at large. In fact, bipolar II individuals who have hypomania, but not full-blown mania, might - or are rather almost guaranteed - to be diagnosed simply as 'depressed' because people typically don't even notice the extent of hypomanic episodes. Hills can sometimes be overlooked, as well, especially when you have much more extreme features like a great canyon or mountains that reach past the clouds. Hills are common and - while sometimes marvelled at or even loved - fairly unremarkable in the grand scheme of the bipolar spectrum. Hills might also be indicative of more minor mixed episodes, though these hills are quite rare. Hills like this might have scolding hot springs and be volcanically active far underneath the surface. Just in case you do run into a mixed state hill, look for unexpected or unusual changes that deviate from the normal hypomanic mood.


---Low Ground---
Canyons and Valleys:

Canyons are usually when my mood takes a sharp drop into depression. I can seem perfectly fine and even normal and then - oops, there's a cliff there! Usually, the lowest of the lows comes almost immediately, and then the depression might go away almost about as suddenly. Valleys, on the other hand, tend to be longer lived and have more gradual descents to and ascents from the depression. The geographical definition of a valley, and most lower points, can have the word 'depression' in them, in fact. Plain depressions usually aren't as complicated or varied as mania and hypomania, so there's little need to go further in depth, but for a quick description... During a depression, I can be less vocal, have little or no energy, little or no motivation, feel as though I am actually physically feeble (or more than usual, at least) which others can feel, too, I can often have worsened or increased incidence of fibromyalgia flare-ups, as well as general achiness, stiffness, and lethargy, I can seem more withdrawn and be more of an isolationist, and... above all, I can occasionally cover it all up with compulsive and fake smiles, and reassurances that nothing's wrong (my energy level is usually telltale, however.) Canyons and valleys are usually the worst of the worst. If I do have a facade, I usually can't maintain it for very long. I often shut down completely, or quite near. These places are also often much darker and colder than the areas higher up.


Ravines and Gullies:

These are basically the same as canyons and valleys, in that order, but simply smaller. When I have a facade or try to cover up the depression, I can typically pull it off much better and for a longer period than with the canyons and valleys. Because valleys last longer, I usually maintain no facade, or it can only survive a smaller portion of the depression, but a facade can often survive the whole depression of a ravine or gully. Gullies might not even really register on other people's radars as, while they might be wider in proportion to ravines, they're also typically shallower. Gullies might seems like simply slower points in life, or even appear relatively 'normal.' They may last longer, or appear flatter, than ravines, but I'm typically decently functioning (well, relative to me, at least) and can have at least a semi-decent outlook without too much effort. There usually isn't nearly the degree of awe-striking power as a deep depression can cause, but they're usually much easier to deal with, as well. These mild depressions are fairly common and often relatively short lived.


---The Ocean---

To stick with the geographical theme, the ocean can represent the great unknown. It constitutes most of the world, and yet it's probably the least explored and the least understood part of the world. Much of my mind is still an utter mystery to me, but with new tools, new things are being learned everyday. The great, deep blue can seem imposing, mysterious, and even scary, and perhaps it should be... to a degree. For if we sink into this great unknown... could we ever come back? I perhaps get too curious for my own good, sometimes.


::::Tectonic Activity::::

Anxiety isn't really like any particular land feature, but acts more like tectonic plates shifting. Anxiety can form mountains and volcanoes, dry up and create new seas, tear land apart and make giant holes, it can swallow houses whole into the ground like they never existed, it can shake the ground and your foundations, it can send tsunamis crashing into cities, and it can instill fear. While anxiety isn't exactly any particular land feature, it can certainly contribute to the formation of land features. My anxieties can plummet me into a depression, or send me into a manic high. Sometimes, it causes volcanoes to explode, and for my foundations (beliefs, for instance) to shatter right from under me. Anxieties can scare me into a seemingly catatonic state, or send me running. What I do certainly know, however, is that something bad always comes when anxiety is looming over me, and it's most volatile when paired with a land formation that's already existing.

Letting Go

For some people, it comes naturally (perhaps too naturally), and for other's, it seems utterly impossible... Letting things go is something that certain people have an affinity for, and other don't. Some people are lucky enough to be somewhere in the middle, but I think most people are at least a little too far to one side or the other. I, personally, have extreme difficulties letting things go, especially things that aggravate me. Every once in a while, however, I manage to let something go, and I can never get used to just what a relief it is! It's like an enormous burden suddenly vaporising and floating away into the sky. Okay, it's not always so graceful, and getting to that point is definitely easier said than done...

Several days ago, I sought out an answer to something on a website that's specifically for asking questions and getting answers from other users in an attempt to share useful knowledge. Well, I haven't always found the community on that site to be so utopian. In fact, sometimes it's just full of arrogant, self-righteous ass-holes, to put it nicely. There really isn't any other way I can think of putting it, that isn't harsher, to give the right idea. Well, needless to say, I got a bit incensed with some of the people on their and even got to the point of reporting one and writing an angry message to another. These didn't go unwarranted, either. I was not irrationally lashing out - I was taking appropriate actions in response to their actions. I thought that my angry message was even quite restrained and civilised!

Well, I went out of town for Easter weekend, and for that whole time, I didn't check my e-mail or that website. It was actually nice that I forgot about it all. Well, after getting back home (tonight), I got on my e-mail and checked the messages. Well, I got more than I was expecting, but one stuck out in particular. It was a message from that site. Specifically, it was the reply to my angry message. The person actually had said that they didn't even know what I was talking about, and so they couldn't even reply to it. For a brief and immediate moment, I became inflamed. I wanted to (virtually) scream at him until my head exploded!

...But then, something unusual happened. I rubbed my headache riddled head, checked the box next to that e-mail... and deleted it. I then deleted all of the other junk and moved on. It wasn't instantaneously, but it was pretty quickly, that I sudden felt this great sense of relief. I didn't have to worry about the stress of ranting furiously at this guy, or trying to reign myself in so that I wasn't in turn accused of being belligerent, or awaiting his next reply, or the possibility of several more back-and-forth messages... I just stopped it right then and there. On a scale of 1-10 of how hard it is normally for me to let something like this go... it probably gets a solid 7. If you throw in some erroneous information on the other person's end, then it probably jumps to a 9 or a full-blown 10. It can probably sometimes seem like I might be more willing to give up a kidney than to give up a conversation about something that makes me angry. Well, I guess I must be willing to give up a kidney, now!

You might hear stories of people who got great relief from not stressing out about certain things so much, and you might either scoff at it or think it's completely obvious... or both. I've often scoffed at it and thought it sounded completely obvious. I have always had trouble not making sarcastic or irritated remarks about positive life stories, whether out of jealousy or some warped perception of reality. I could just as easily think that the person is being hopelessly positive in a hopeless world (warped perception) as I could jealously crave what they've found. Well, I don't really get jealous about that sort of stuff right now (I've come to be like the people I've made fun of!)

Now, admittedly, if I didn't have the headache, weren't tired, weren't lacking the mental stamina to carry out the incensed ranting back-and-forth, and I didn't feel like it would be inevitably pointless, I probably would've continued with it. I would've fruitlessly have brought more stress upon myself out of some inane idea of right and wrong, good versus bad, and an idiotic moral-crusader-type delusionary complex. But what's the point? In all of my experience, I'm the only one who really loses anything out of such situations. Sometimes I may even feed other people's warped psychological appetites, and then I'm not only bringing damage to myself, but providing something that my 'antagonist' wants! So, again, what's the point? Simple, and essentially only, answer... There isn't one. It's totally pointless! So... I cut it off. I stopped that horrid cycle, at least for now. Score one for me!

So I probably saved myself a considerable amount of utterly unnecessary stress just by ignoring something that could do nothing more than cause me unnecessary stress. I think that my head and body would be thanking me for saving them that burden if they... well... were autonomous and could speak as entities other than myself.