Holy shit. Okay, here we go.

From teen years on I thought of myself as a real go-getter who sometimes had depression. I would write and publish plays, get amazing jobs and kick ass, even bought 16 houses/buildings by the time I was 26. But somehow, the depression always got the best of me.

It wasn't until my mid-30s that I was diagnosed as bi-polar. It makes sense. When I'm in my up phase, I can (and did) conquer the world. But no matter how good it is, it always comes to an end.

I was treated for depression, and that always snapped me out of it, but it would come back with a wicked vengeance.

As we get older, bi-polar changes. The highs aren't as high or as persistent and the lows are lower and longer.

It's massively changed my life, and I begrudgingly say for the better. My last act of mania was building up a business which now affords me a passive life of modest comfort. Since medication, I've never done anything truly amazing, and that's frustrating because I feel like that's who I am.

On the flip side, I no longer fear wanting desperately to end my life and orphan my children on a semi-regular, unpredictable basis.

Mania was fun. It was awesome. It was like being on mild coke without the drugs for months or once a couple years without the cost or addiction. I'd sleep six hours and function great. I'd finish every project. I'd out-earn my colleagues by wide margins. I'd buy ever-fancier cars, date ever more exotic women, and I was just a bucket of fun to be around.

Now I'm just kind of a normal guy. I feel like I sold the part of me that makes me honest in trade for the security of not actively planning my own death.