If I Can't Feel, If I Can't

It Was As If My Father Had Given Me, By Way Of Temperament, An Impossibly Wild, Dark, And Unbroken Horse. It Was A Horse Without A Name, And A Horse With No Experience Of A Bit Between Its Teeth. My Mother Taught Me To Gentle It; Gave Me The Discipline And Love To Break It; And- As Alexander Had Known So Intuitively With Bucephalus- She Understood, And Taught Me, That The Beast Was Best Handled By Turning It Toward The Sun.

An Ardent Temperament Makes One Very Vulnerable To Dreamkillers.

Mood Disorders Are Terribly Painful Illnesses, And They Are Isolating Illnesses. And They Make People Feel Terrible About Themselves When, In Fact, They Can Be Treated.

Suicide Is A Particularly Awful Way To Die: The Mental Suffering Leading Up To It Is Usually Prolonged, Intense And Unpalliated. There Is No Morphine Equivalent To Ease The Acute Pain, And Death, Not Uncommonly, Is Violent And Grisly. The Suffering Of A Suicidal Is Private And Inexpressible, Leaving Family Members, Friends And Colleagues To Deal With An Almost Unfathomable Kind Of Loss, As Well As Guilt. Suicide Carries In Its Aftermath A Level Of Confusion And Devastation That Is, For The Most Part, Beyond Description.

One Of Things So Bad About Depression And Bipolar Disorder Is That If You Don't Have Prior Awareness, You Don't Have Any Idea What Hit You.