An Open Letter to my Manic Depression

Dear Nikki,

Girl, what the hell?

Your energy is all over the goddamn place.

One day you’re bouncing off walls,

and beds, and thoughts

and you can’t stop thinking

or talking

long enough to hear someone is speaking to you.

I know you hear it,

I know you hear me.

I know there’s at least a buzzing in your inner ear that calls your attention

A whispering fidget spinner that’s begging for two seconds of your time.

Other days, seem like nights

It’s quiet in there

Literally nothing is on

Nothing is open

You’re

off.

Thoughts are like molasses when they happen

and when they don’t

you’re not surprised

you’re relieved, even.

Glad you don’t have to muster the energy

muster the motivation

to breathe a millisecond faster than you already need to.

There are these orange see-through bottles on your nightstand.

They have these marbles inside

At least I think they’re marbles

Except you swallow them and they come in different shapes and sizes and colors

I can’t pronounce them sometimes but the one by the alarm clock right now is easy:

Lithium

Next to it, there’s Abillify, and then Anderal.

Your psychiatrist said that’s the old-type name.

Who knows what that means.

It still stops the tremors that Lithium keeps gifting you.

Your mom gave you this really neat marble collector cabinet.

They are mini-cabinets for the marbles by day.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday

If you wake up, that is.

Twice a day with a meal

If you eat, that is.

Don’t forget to take them though,

I’m scared you won’t wake up again

if you stop taking the marbles.

They’re good for you

and so am I.