You see, this is cool, it’s like we’re all gathered around a big round table that’s full to brimming over with delightful little cakes, lamingtons and steaming hot pots of tea. We get to do this together, because hell I know virtually nothing about bi-polar, and I’m sure some of you guys don’t too. So don’t even bother asking for permission to hack into that chocolate cake or whether or not anyone wants the last segment of kiwi fruit – just go for it, and join in the ‘lets nut out what bi-polar really is’ discussion.
After my late night/early morning Everly Brothers sing-along last night I was lying naked in bed, as you do, thinking about whether or not anyone famous has bi-polar. I mean sure, this would have been fun if there was a sexy female celeb with bi-polar ‘cause I could have had naughty fun, but the only name I could come up with was Stephen Fry. Sure, for a moment there naughty Fry fun flittered through my mind, but, not really my cup of tea, so I opted for an old fall back before falling asleep.
Then this morning I hopped online to see who I could discover…and knock me down with a kiwi fruit slice I’m in damn good company!
I mean check these out:
Hans Christian Anderson, I mean how cool was that man! He created The Little Mermaid for crying out loud!
One of my favourite film directors – the gorgeous Tim Burton – is manic depressive.
How’s about Vincent Van Gogh – I could cut my ear off and join his ranks.
Plus the, let’s be honest, intensely shaggable, Agatha Christie.
Deep breath now: Winston Churchill, Buzz Aldrin, Napoleon, Edgar Allen Poe, Jim Carrey, Robert Louis Stevenson, Cary Grant: which means I could become the prime minister of Great Britain and lead the country through one of the biggest wars of mankind whilst landing on the moon, leading the French into battle (which granted could be difficult whilst also being the PM of GB but I’d give it a shot) as I write poems about ravens sitting on pirate’s shoulders before pretending I’m in a Tex Avery cartoon and going on to star as one of the world most intensely sexy movie stars. How cool is that!
And hey, let us never forget the great Spike Milligan! Bow down to his genius. I mean it, everyone bow now, take a moment and praise one of the kings of modern comedy!!
Finally, for now, and by lord I wish I had realised this last night ‘cause me, my imagainary fall back and her could have had a blast: Marilyn Munro. [sigh]
So hey, maybe I was being over zealous with my end to the cute pet wombat dream last night. I’m sure at some stage of their lives all of the above had cute pet wombats, I’m damn sure I saw one in that film studio with Buzz Aldrin!
Okay, so why is bipolar different from your normal age old depression. Aye, that’s the rub,you see cause now I have an excuse for being a twat. That never-before-written-about week in Adelaide earlier this year where I scared the living shit out of myself on a daily basis actually makes sesne. In fact 75% of all the crazy shenanigans I have gotten myself into over the last 12 months makes sense. It’s awesome, it’s like how you would feel after having a massive lump in your breast and you know there’s something wrong but no-one believes you, everyone’s telling that it is in fact a swallowed satsuma rather than breast cancer, only to then be finally told ‘yes, it is not a stasuma,’
Bipolar disorder is an illness that, due to an imbalance of chemicals in the brain, results in fluctuations of mood from the giddy heights of mania to the oppressive depths of depression.
The symptoms can include:
1) Inflated self-esteem which can include grandiose ideas.
2) Decreased need for sleep
3) More talkative than usual
4) Easily dis….oooo, can I have that last piece of kiwi? Yummm…tracted.
5) Prolific ideas and racing thoughts
6) An increase in goal directed activity (resulting in reckless behaviour)
7) Excessive involvement in pleasuable activities.
Now, looking at those I reckon some of you would be thinking that bi-polar sounds pretty damned awesome. I get to have little sleep, think of myself as King of the Planet, talk endlessly (some of you who know me will be thinking finally! He’s gonna actually say something) and then shag and shag and shag until she can shag no longer. Sounds like a pretty damn good Friday night really doesn’t it!
Trust me on that one, I have the metaphrocial scars from Hindley Street to prove it. It can be fucking scary!
1) Inflated self esteem can, and indeed does, make you into a twat!
2) Decreased need for sleep? Try going a week without sleep – not because you don’t want to but because you can’t – you end up looking like an extra from Shaun of the Dead lining up to get whacked with a pool cue to the irrepressable sounds of Queen.
3) More talkative than usual – all well and good unless you’re rabbitting away at the speed of a locomotive that no-one can understand you.
4) Being easily dis…I was actually thinking earlier, at the start of this post, to use the Alice party scene as the metaphor rather than some basic lamington fuelled party. Not sure why, I’ve always liked that story and I’ve never realy been sure why. Could be it’s utter marvellous use of english, or the somewhat devinely animated Disney version. Perhaps it’s just because Kate Beckinsale looked a helluva lot sexier in her Alice dress than she did her leather outfit from Underworld. Colour me weird that way, little blue dress or skin tight leather? Yummmmy little blue dress any day…tractable isn’t fun sometimes because you just end up forgetting things and going down all these tangents which makes you look like (a) a kinky bugger, (b) a liar and (c) someone who doesn’t keep his prom…what about Dungarees, it’s this weird country farmgirl thing I have, throw on a pair of dungarees and your heart is mine forever…ises, and it is actually really dangerous!
5) Racing thoughts, fun? Erm, nope, check out the above and any part of this blog – can be pretty darn frightening what goes on sometimes. Often you will say something you can never take back and hurt the fuck of someone that you care about.
6) An increase in goal directed activity – yep, been there, done that, you end up focusing everything on one thing and then collapse at some point out of sheer physical or mental exhaustion.
7) As for the increase in pleasurable activities…let’s not even go there just yet!
Everything in moderation is fun; that’s the bloody brilliant thing about life. But Bipolar, you kinda don’t really get a choice…days and days and days or mania…and then a massive collapse. A la Hindley Street, a la this week with last nights bblllaaaaaahhhh post. A sudden collapse from a heightened manic state into confused paralysis of the mind.
Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out this whole manic depressive bipolar thing. But ya know what, I think I was a little over-zealous last night when I said I would never again know the love of a woman or be able to run around the back garden playing frisbee with Geoff (my pet wombat)…I did for a moment there become the person that I’m rallying against!
HE HAS A MENTAL ILLNESS!
LYNCH HIM!!!! LLLYYYYNNNNCCCHHH HIMMMM!
He is not worthy to lead a normal life! He must di-ieee!
Bugger that: this is who I am!
Stephen Fry is one of the finest comedians, raconteurs and downright sexy buggers that has ever lived. Hans Christian Anderson created some of the most loved fairytales of all time (and without him the world would never have been given the good grace of the ever sexy Arial). Tim Burton…Edward Scissorhands? Sleepy Hollow? Ed Wood? Need I go on? Vincent Van Gogh, one of the most prolific and well loved painters of all time. Spike Milligan! PAH! Genius! Marilyn Munro, well, who can argue with that cute little butt.
You see, bi-polar isn’t the end of me, it is only just the beginning. And everyone that’s given up on me, left me, or refuses to have any contact because of the big scary man with big scary problems should remember one thing:
I am Addy
I have bi-polar
…and I’m a bloody genius!
One day I’ll be a one-eared writer/filmmaker/artist raconteuring endlessly witty stories of gothic decadence whilst slinking around the world seducing swooning women with my cute little spankable butt.
Sounds like quite a bloody life to me!
Coming to terms with Bipolar Part II