PURLS OF WISDOM

It's around midnight & I suddenly wake with a start. I sit bolt upright in the dark bedroom.
I'm all alone as my husband is away on a business trip again.
I'm tingling and my body feels like it is covered with static electricity.
I am breathing heavily and rapidly.
I am ecstatic. I am filled with beautiful happiness.

Because I have the answer.
The answer to EVERYTHING.

I fling my legs over the edge of the bed and start grinning to myself.

I feel fantastic.

Another Bipolar manic attack has begun.

I walk briskly to the kitchen, lighting a cigarette on the way & set the jug to boil. I don't realise it but my teeth are chattering, I am constantly licking my lips and wringing my hands.
As the jug boils I start pacing back & forth across the kitchen muttering to myself
"How could I not have seen it before? It makes perfect sense. I know what I have to do. I know the answer......... KNITTING!"

The jug boils and I make myself the first of about 30 cups of coffee that I will mindlessly consume over the next 5 hours.
Inside my brain the neurotransmitters are firing on full power as my mind is totally inundated with thought upon thought overlapping the next filling my head like waves crashing.
With every second my excitement, happiness and creativity grows until I am literally laughing hysterically with the complete ecstasy of my incredible discovery.

 

KNITTING IS MY FUTURE.

My thoughts are now racing on fast forward and if you could project the thoughts through a speaker it would be like 10 talk back radio stations all playing at once on top volume and would sound like this:

Knitting. How could I not see it? Knitting. I could knit. If I could knit I could make all my own cardigans and clothes. Everything.
Oh my God I could make gifts for all of my family & friends. Christmas. Birthdays. everything.
Tea cosies. Cardigans. Toys. Oh my God the toys. Cardigans. Gifts.
That would make them so happy. Oh my God I could sell them. I could sell the knitted goods. Yes sell them!   I could have a stall at a cool market. Knitting would be awesome. It's so relaxing. A market. Southbank maybe? Yes Yes Yes! Oh my God I could have a SHOP. A knitting shop. YES! My own shop. Full of my knitting. I would have workshops. Oh my god it's going to be amazing. Where's a pen & paper? I have to get this down. I have to draw my shop layout. Advertising Advertising Marketing. What if I could get somebody awesome to model my things?
Oh my God what if I got Dita Von Teese to model my knits. Oh my God Dita Von Teese totally WOULD model my knits! YES OF COURSE! Got to knit. I have to start. Shit Shit Shit Shit. Spotlight doesn't open for 8 hours. Shit Shit. Ok ok ok ok ok. It's all good. It's great It's great.

This plays over and over in my mind while I drink cup after cup of coffee and smoke and smoke and smoke.
By the time 8.30am has come around my pupils are like saucers, I am shaking, stuttering and rubbing my face over and over again. 
But internally I feel AMAZING. INVINCIBLE. STRONG. ENERGISED. SUPER HUMAN. BUZZING.

I get into my car and it is all I can do not to run every red light and Stop sign in my rush to get to Spotlight. Every car in front of me get screamed at and I start hammering on the steering wheel and stammering loudly "Come on come on come on!!! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck".

I throw myself out of the car and practically sprint into the shop where I go to the knitting section.
I stand in front of the yarn and needles and books and suddenly my excitement & joy is replaced with confusion as I realise that I don't even know HOW to knit.

The rows and rows of different coloured wool. The rows and rows of different types of wool. The rows and rows of different needles. It becomes all blurry and I feel the walls of the store pulsating in and out. The music playing over the speakers feels booming in my ears. I start to scratch at my arms and biting my lip hard and begin to sob.

"There's too much. There's too much. There's too much" as my brain decides that 8 plus hours of hyperactivity is enough and begins to shut down.
A store girl approaches me and asks me if I am ok but I've literally lost the power to speak.
So I just look at her mournfully and cry.

I drive home and it is all I can do not to drive my car at full speed into a wall as crushing sadness fills my veins and threatens to strangle me from the inside.

Everything slows down in the world and even though it is a sunny day the colour leaves and the world becomes grainy and grey.  My brain feels heavy and swollen and I feel like the grief of the whole world has become mine to bear.
Nothing matters anymore.
What a fool I was to think of knitting. What an idiot.

I fall through the door of my empty house.  I drop heavily onto the couch and light another cigarette.
I unscrew the cap of the bottle of wine and pour half the bottle into an oversized glass and drink deeply. The alcohol burns my stomach but I don't care.

I drink and drink

and then

I sleep and sleep.