Then and Now

To the homeless wanderer,

Mom asked how you felt compared to when you were back in the hospital. Your mind drifted back to those three weeks. The first week, you made every effort to escape as quickly as possible. But then the second and third week came around. You began to find your own rhythm of living within confinement. You began to take ownership of your insanity. You were declared insane. Clinically speaking, you were given a diagnosis of bipolar. So, why not start embracing it? In response to Mom’s question, you ended up saying that you were afraid of your emotions. You felt as if giving into or expressing them might lead to another “episode”. More than anything, you wanted there to be someone who could make sense of you. Because you do want to figure it all out. All of this. All of you. Someone to help you answer the questions: Who are “you”?, Who do you want people to see “you” as?, When can you be “you” again?, Are you ready to be “you”?, Is there a new “you” waiting somewhere? It’s frustrating working through these questions alone, so your mind shuts down. And out of fear, so does your heart. I think you did feel better in the hospital. Or if anything, more alive. More yourself. Things were taken care of. You didn’t need to worry about “you”. The doctors and nurses did that for you. Locked up in the hospital. Maybe freer.

Sincerely, Esther