Skip to main content

World Bipolar Day -- Happy Birthday, Vincent

Today is Vincent Van Gogh's birthday.  Some people give him a post-mortem diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and take the occasion to declare World Bipolar Day.  Healthcentral.com contributor John McManamy says for him, every day is bipolar day.

As for the world in World Bipolar Day, precisely which world are people talking about?  In my memoir, I note:

Maybe someday, aliens will kindly abduct me and return me to the planet of my birth.

In the meantime, I'm stuck on this one, not a planet of my own choosing, performing my own stunts, learning as I go along.  As I like to joke: We're peanut butter people stuck in a tofu world governed by Vulcans.
Back to the beginning: Bipolar is not for a day.  Let's instead celebrate our bipolar lives - the ups, the downs, the bad, the good, the ridiculous, the sublime.  Give lip-service to normal, but stay true to bipolar.  After all, it's who we are.

I like John.

Yeah, I haven't been posting much lately.  I have a friend who checks up on me when I stop posting. But in this case, it's because I am doing so much and well enough that something had to give.  I have missed blogging, and am trying to keep my hand in at batshitcrazypreacher.blogspot.com.  So go there, if you want to follow what I am up to.

Back to the present occasion -- I give thanks today for the life of Vincent. And I share the following in honor of my fellow peanut butter peeps.  I rejoice in every day they spend on this planet.

Comments

Popular Posts

In the Bleak Midwinter

For Prozac Monologues readers whatever your state this holiday.



In the bleak mid-winter frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak mid-winter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.

Angles and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,
But his mother only in her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part, –
Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart.

poem by Christina Rossetti, 1872 painting by Ivan Shishkin, 1890

Six Ways to Heal the Holes in Your Head

Bohemian Chanukah

A great miracle happened there.



Happy Hanukkah to all Prozac Monologues readers.
Let the light shine!