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Sound of SirensLife is absurd, a life with occasional visits to the Funny Farm, doubly so. Your basket weaver meets many paradoxes. Whereas some people take illicit drugs to experience a "high," we take drugs to avoid experiencing another high. The problem is that the initial stages of a manic episode are extremely enjoyable — like the siren's call, almost irresistible. All of the senses are heightened, colors are brighter, ideas abound, creativity is enhanced, there is a boundless energy and a diminution of inhibitions; nothing seems beyond one's grasp. It is very tempting to succumb to the siren's call — to linger in this stage and attempt to make it persist, perhaps by discarding our medication. We are unlikely to be successful; mania or depression will follow. Who among us, when feeling like this for the first or second time, is going to respond by reaching for the medicine cabinet? But this is exactly the response we have to teach ourselves. Much of the world is engaged in the pursuit of happiness. We basket weavers are pursued by happiness. We avoid it like the plague it is, we run from it, we reach for the medicine bottle, we make a doctor's appointment. Now there's a paradox. Of course I exaggerate. There is a difference between honest happiness and the beginning of a manic episode. But it is a subtle one. It is a continuum, with ill-defined boundaries. It takes experience, and the inevitable errors of judgment, before one gets a sense of the lay of the land. And even then, there is always the question, "Is this happy, or is it too happy?" There is only one way to learn — the hard way. How else are we going to learn to distrust the mounting pleasure at the onset of mania if we have not yet visited the inevitable Dark Side to follow? I found the only way to teach myself to suspect the beginning of a manic episode, and reach for the tablets, was to remember the pains of recovering from the last one. Even then it took me half a dozen episodes before I could do so with any resolve. Maybe I'm a slow learner.
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