Life in the Key of Bipolar

February 3, 2013

Conversations with myself at hypomanic times often go something like this.

Me:  Stop playing piano and go get your work done.

Other me:  I am really on a roll.  I've got to keep playing.  And I need to play it perfectly.  I can't stop now.

Me:  You need to go make dinner, pay the bills, be a grown up.  Stop playing.

Other me:  Shut up.

Me:  Fine.  Whatever.

You see, I can't stop playing the piano when I'm creating a new song.  If I could, I would sit there and play the same new song without stopping all day long.  But I can't do that.  I have to force myself to stop.  I know I have a job, I have household responsibilities, and of course, I have a son to care for and spend time with.  But there is this magnetic force always drawing me back to the keys.  Calling me.  The blossoming melody singing inside my head.  I ignore it as much as I can.  But it nags at me.  I feel like if I don't finish a new song, I can't concentrate on anything else.

Other Me:  End this blog post and go play the piano.

Me:  This blog post isn't finished yet.  Proofread, revise, perfect it.

Other me:  Stop being such a grown up.  It's piano time.

Me:  Fine.  Whatever.

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