For the past several years, I have seriously wondered if I had developed some type of mental illness… or worse. I briefly explained this in “Potholes — The Aftermath,” an earlier Zap Tale. To be perfectly honest, I’m still not certain what I have become, despite having my epiphany and being freed from whom I believed I was.
It’s a hell of a head trip trying to figure out if my brain is firing on all cylinders, or as referred to in clinical terms “chemically unbalanced.” For the most part, this leaves me constantly guessing exactly how and what I’m supposed to feel. I couldn’t begin to count the times I have awakened from a peaceful night’s sleep to ponder what I have become, only to return to bed, still unsure.
To add to my conundrum, while trying to interpret my true feelings, I sit in front of my aging typewriter and desperately try to disentangle a knot of thoughts. I start out fine, then the letters begin to fly past my face as though I was in the prison version of The Matrix, except the code is far more jumbled. Then, a familiar song will blare from my headphones and take several words from the printed page with it.
However, taking into account where I presently reside (or who I reside with) , aside from second guessing my mental state, future well being, or worrying about my attention span. If my thoughts were different than most of yours, would that indicate mine are actually flawed?
Before I designated myself as a closeted bi-polar, I had to attempt to compare my inner most thoughts to others — but then wonder if they are normal? Then I had to ask myself several more questions? What exactly is normal, or what if the same people I’ve been using for comparison are suppressing (or devoid of) the same emotions that had recently overtaken me — then what?