The Yo-Yo effect

When we’re at our lowest, the world is not enough,

We will not get out of bed; the smallest of things are tough.

We feel no need to eat or we eat way too much,

Our emotions are buried so deep, they are so out of touch.

The brightest of days will always be blue,

The only person on this earth is you.

You feel so alone, like the last man alive,

With Manic Depression, it’s hard to survive.

No-one can help you, that’s how it seems,

No-body cares; it’s you alone with your dreams.

Why do we feel like this? Why should you care?

You’ll never understand us, you’ve never been there.

That’s how we feel 50% of the time,

The other 50 (if we’re lucky) we’re doing fine.

Then we think we’re potty, enjoying life too much,

Relying on you is a pretty useless crutch.

We wake up in the morning, full of the joys of spring,

It’s only 6:30, am I missing something?

Find some jobs to do, clean the house, so proud.

Make another cuppa, sit back and look around.

Keep euphoric feeling, by going for a walk,

Sit in a park, gaze about, maybe brave some talk.

Don’t dwell on other matters, bills can wait a while,

Fix that broken thingy later & concentrate on my smile.

The sun is always shining when we’re in this mood,

Now we enjoy lots of things, we even like our food.

The evenings last forever; we feel no need for sleep,

If only this was the only mood we could choose to keep.

Morning’s on its way again, we wonder how we’ll feel.

We know our bodies feel o.k. it’s our brain that’s feeling ill.

A psychological battle, we have to fight each day,

Emotional games of yo-yo we know we have to play

There is an explanation, not a cure, a fix,

We’ve got too much of that, a little too much of this.

The doctor has the right words, if you want to know,

But that means admitting you’ve a problem, the doctors you should go.

The drugs do work; the imbalance is put right,

But what happens if we wake up blue one night?

The darkness will take over; the pill-popping will stop,

Or can we fight that feeling and back to bed we’ll flop.

Married with children works better than the drugs,

They give me what I really need, lots & lots of love.

I still have my moments; it’s hard to break free,

Manic depression, my illness, will always be with me.

Now do me one small favour, talk to someone who can help,

And this yo-yo life you’re living may be less of a living hell.

BADGER