The Bipolar, Alcoholic, SAD Syndrome Poet.

These first words do not convey my original intention. Not by a long way. No sir. My plan was to pour out a diatribe of self-pity. A plea for your understanding of the burden foisted upon this poor guy and await the plaudits that would, undoubtedly rain down, deservedly, upon his head.

The road to Hell, they say, is paved in good intentions. Understand. I had it in mind to save many of you from the underhanded trick, life had played on me, show you the path of righteousness. You could consider yourself blessed. Life would feel richer from hearing my words; pearls of digital wisdom, straight from the pen of this, thrice smote soul.

                                                         BUT !!!!

I’ve just watched a survivor of one of Hitler’s death camps, relate his experiences and the burden he has carried through the years since.

Rather puts my self-indulgent pity in its place ….. eh?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

So if you are sitting comfortably, I will, as a chastened man, begin.

Perhaps with tongue in cheek, I describe myself as the Bipolar, Alcoholic, Sad Syndrome, Poet. It’s true, I have and still do suffer these three problems. Not strictly true. I still have these three illnesses, but I don’t really suffer much, these days. ‘By Timothy’, I must admit, that is not the usual expletive to escape my rosebud lips but, the children might be about. Anyway,  ‘By Timothy’, this is heavy going. Why don’t I start at the beginning? * Now there’s a novel idea.

Now, at the ‘arse end’ of my earthly existence * (spot the deliberate mistake?) and looking back over the, sometimes quite interesting experiences, I have realized that, on the whole, it’s been a somewhat disappointing journey.

My God! I nearly fell into using a remark that I have always found irritating, and that’s putting it mildly – well - the kid’s might still be about. “Don’t get me wrong”. Look. You can get me anyway you feel.  I have been somewhat disappointed, so there.

Of the trio of disorders I was dealt in this great poker game we call life, I suspect that the prime starter must be Bipolar Illness. My inability to accept the mundane, rebel against all authority and wanting life to, more closely anyway, resemble my expectations. Extraordinary mood swings. Joy to melancholy, breaking the land speed record. Yes, I believe this illness (undiagnosed or treated at that time) was, if not the cause, then a very high contributor to my slide into alcoholism. Others may argue this theory, fine, but for me, the jury is in and the verdict is guilty.

At this point, I must stress, just because the Bipolar disorder might well have helped, if not caused the alcoholism, this does not mean I can pick up a drink without starting the whole sad mess again. This was a great and understandable fear on my wife’s side.

 Sorry anyone that might think they have found the answer to their problem.

But

‘Once an alcoholic. Always an alcoholic’.

Not a wonderful picture, so far eh!  Let me tell you, it gets one hell of a lot better. Today, I’m out of that pit and on the whole live a peaceful and reasonably content life. Having re-read that last sentence, it still amazes me that I can say and mean, just that. (I take treatment for the BP and use the knowledge gained in AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) over several years’ attendance. Not all sober years. I no longer attend meetings but don’t say I never will again. *  Make no mistake, I have my share of bad hair days, but that’s normal life. The trick for me being, I try to accept these feelings for what they are and do my best not to succumb to negativity and talk, talk, talk. Works for me so far. If you identify with any of this, I hope you can take heart and follow this strategy.

And, as for the Sad Syndrome, as you will know, this is a winter problem and for me, is the least of my concerns. I feel lucky to have managed so far.

* Please contact me if I can offer any help on this

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God bless you and may you be in heaven half hour before the Devil knows you're dead