…now i shall have to get myself out of this ditch.
How joyfully I would vanish there, sinking deeper and deeper under the rains.”
-Samuel Beckett, Molloy
by Edvard Munch
I am nothing like Beckett’s degenerate old Molloy in physical appearance or situation. I am not clad in rags, limping along with some sucking-stones in my pockets to stave off hunger pangs. I am not wandering alone through bleak and rocky countryside. But his words resonate with me nonetheless. And I have a ditch to get out of, even if I would rather vanish under the rains created in my own chemically-imbalanced mind.
Here’s hoping that keeping this blog will help me to do so, and perhaps encourage some like-minded readers at the same time.
***
I spoke with a bipolar friend the other day, and we were comparing notes on our states and conditions.
“How’s that going?” I asked, meaning his mental illness.
“It has its ups and downs,” he deadpanned.
