I Decided Early In Graduate School That

The Complexities Of What We Are Given In Life Are Vast And Beyond Comprehension.

But Then Back On Lithium And Rotating On The Planet At The Same Pace As Everyone Else, You Find Your Credit Is Decimated, Your Mortification Complete: Mania Is Not A Luxury One Can Easily Afford. It Is Devastating To Have The Illness And Aggravating To Have To Pay For Medications, Blood Tests, And Psychotherapy. They, At Least, Are Partially Deductible. But Money Spent While Manic Doesn't Fit Into The Internal Revenue Service Concept Of Medical Expense Or Business Loss. So After Mania, When Most Depressed, You're Given Excellent Reason To Be Even More So.

Love Has, At Its Best, Made The Inherent Sadness Of Life Bearable, And Its Beauty Manifest.

I Had A Terrible Temper, After All, And Though It Rarely Erupted, When It Did It Frightened Me And Anyone Near Its Epicenter. It Was The Only Crack, But A Disturbing One, In The Otherwise Vacuum-sealed Casing Of My Behavior.

We All Build Internal Sea Walls To Keep At Bay The Sadnesses Of Life And The Often Overwhelming Forces Within Our Minds. In Whatever Way We Do This—through Love, Work, Family, Faith, Friends, Denial, Alcohol, Drugs, Or Medication—we Build These Walls, Stone By Stone, Over A Lifetime. One Of The Most Difficult Problems Is To Construct These Barriers Of Such A Height And Strength That One Has A True Harbor, A Sanctuary Away From Crippling Turmoil And Pain, But Yet Low Enough, And Permeable Enough, To Let In Fresh Seawater That Will Fend Off The Inevitable Inclination Toward Brackishness.