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03 March, 2012

Write of Flight


I'm sitting on a plane headed to Chiang Mai for the fourth time. I'm more elated than I've been in a while. A few things cross my mind, like 'what witty line am I going to open with when I see two of my best friends?' I briefly think of worst-case-scenarios, and very briefly turnover the idea in my head that this elation is unnatural.

That comes with bipolar a lot. If it's not coming from me, it's coming from my concerned mother when we converse.

I paint it as a nuisance when its a necessity, you don't get through something I went through unscathed. Surviving a psychotic episode leaves scars that can't be seen, and just like the versions you see on skin, they're very hard to remove. Not that I want to remove what I've been through. Well, not quite.

I was talking to a close friend visiting me a while ago, and the topic was surrounding his  upcoming marriage proposal. I admired his balls. We were not 10m away from his sleeping future wife and he confidently told me of his plans and showed me the ring.
"Don't cry you poof."

I couldn't help it. I was touched that he was letting me into a moment in his life that was huge, and I guess this unlocked some emotion. It also unlocked further questions that we wouldn't normally address. I put the kids question to him. His answer was 'of course' and then he flipped it back on me. My answer was:
"Bipolar's hereditary. I'm not prepared to put somebody through what I went through."
He was a bit taken aback by that. He'd never thought of it that way.

It's something I still throw about from time-to-time. I don't want to trade in what I've been through, but at the same time, what if I did want to have kids? Would I be able to overcome my reservations?

But I'm pretty sure this elation is of the natural variety. This has been the longest time away from the place since moving to Singapore, and I was overdue. I'm not going to wax lyrical with flowery adjectives about why it's such a beautiful place for me. It just is, and I needed my refill.