My mother sang Mozart's Cradle Song to me when I was small. 'Sleep now,
my little boy, oh sleep. Slowly the grey shadows creep...' Even though
it was written somewhere around 1700-1800', and it's always been quite
ageless, and very soothing to me. To...
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My mother sang Mozart's Cradle Song to me when I was small. 'Sleep now,
my little boy, oh sleep. Slowly the grey shadows creep...' Even though
it was written somewhere around 1700-1800', and it's always been quite
ageless, and very soothing to me. To countless others as well I imagine.
Although I have a mind-blowing collection of co-morbid afflictions, my
main 'problem child', the one that makes my body chemistry almost
impossible to treat due to instability, is bipolar (type ii, super rapid
cycler). I can cycle every couple of days, to 5 times a day, to once a
month, and so forth, no pattern or apparent reason. Most often it's on
the extreme rapid side though, a couple of times a day. It's probably
redundant to say on here that it changes your whole....everything. Body
chemistry, mood, desires, goals, mental state etc . And it's almost
never the same twice. People weren't designed for that, and like
anything, if you bend something back and forth enough, eventually it
breaks. And I used to be optimistic. Even though the first two things
drilled into me, oh so long ago, were 'You won't ever be "cured", don't
live in hope of that', and 'You can't ever be how you were before. Your
life can't. So accept your new dynamic and move on as best you can'. And
there have been some bad times, some really bad times. But there have
also been...some almost not as bad times. I'm not sure I can make claim
to good times. But I always stayed...if not optimistic, at least...(
Apart from a few times...you know how it goes), at least_mostly_
steadfast. I found lights somehow, and sometimes I learned to make my
own, usually for others, and mostly, the darkness kept it's distance.
But now... Now.. Mozart's Cradle Song is less comforting. Because he's
right , in a sinister way. I've seen them...I _feel_ them. It's getting
harder to find the lights, and in my head Mozart's line becomes a
haunting prophecy that rings over and over... "Slowly the grey shadows
creep." . Hi. I'm Guest, and I'm broken.