That’s what mania was like for me; a story in my head about a happily-ever-after, a vortex rising and falling to a cadence within. Synchronicity, wisdom, creativity, wit, humor, grandiose ideals, thoughts and delusions. A story that unraveled and permeated every recess of my mind, until a cold, hard reality sunk its teeth in, sedating me as everything I believed in seeped into this cosmic black hole. I met an emptiness so dark that even the soulless paled in comparison; an emptiness void of everything I once was.
It wasn’t like they left me. It’s that these men never existed. At least not in the sense that they played an active role in the story, except one – my sweetest downfall.
They were all very much alive and breathing, otherwise I wouldn’t have fallen from grace three times in their names. But they either never knew the extent to which I fell or they removed me from their lives because they knew how hard I tripped on love and everything in between.
To this day, they don’t know that my obsessions were simply catalysts into a much more profound, intimate and beautiful love story; a story that placed me directly on a path to my highest calling. A story that brought me closer to higher truths and a story that brought me to my knees as I met the God within all, face to face.
No one knew, not even those I trusted for my care…therapists, psychiatrists, case managers. The euphoria lit my soul on fire and I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t want it to end. If I had told, it’d end with force.
But I tried to tell them. I tried to tell everyone I knew, even if in my mind, they were already aware.
And that is where I went wrong.