I’ve never been a rollercoaster fan. Not as a kid. Not even when my kids were kids. No doubt it’s because my life is perpetually up and down without mechanical propulsion. 
Only God knows what triggers those whiplashing jaunts, and She’s not too free with Her secrets. Either that, or the price of stability this time around is mastery of the illogical, the intangible and the unexpected. Moon phases, planetary alignments, the ebbs and flows of mass human consciousness ~ maybe black ops mind control projects ~ all or any might contribute to my emotional unsteadiness. At this point, I rule nothing out. What I can say for certain is that I’m beyond weary of not knowing who I will wake up as tomorrow. 
Besides, my experience of the rollercoaster rush is precisely opposite that of coaster aficionados. I get my jollies on the up ride. I’m brilliant, inspired, articulate ~ all the attributes of Emily Dickenson and Wonder Woman perfectly sculpted and infinitely endowed. Ah, but one nanosecond past the crest of the summit, I plummet and become a waste of space and breath. No amusement park ride will ever duplicate the degree of my descent, for it defies the laws of physics, especially since my present rate of highs and lows occurs about once a day. Yes, I know, that qualifies as “rapid cycling,” the next-to-most-dangerous phase that one blessed with bipolar disorder must face. But fear not, friends of mine, I am more conscious than ever before. I’ve amassed a vast array of resources, and my support system is amazing. I will not jinx my fate by declaring that this is my last ride on the cosmic psychic stomach-turner, but I do swear that when I disembark I will be wiser and stronger and maintain inviolate well-being boundaries. In the meantime, I’m investigating another resource, Rhodiola, an Eastern European/Asian herb that is technically labeled as an “adaptogen” but hints at numerous other healing virtues. 
Check back for an update.
Kitty R. Connell
My Blog I
My Blog II
My Website
| 
