I have come to realize that in order to feel well, I need to excel. I have to dwell in a state of being or existence above and beyond the limits of a material experience.

Monotony and Mediocrity are my nemeses. And Melancholia shortly appears once these two villains have sat down at the table. And so, I am suffering from transcendence dependence. Or, perhaps I am thriving due to it, depending on which side of binoculars you are peeking through.

If I don’t feel magical or mystical, or I’ve lost my writing genius, I am downright empty. Sullen, even.

Transcendence sounds like some buzz word on a cult pamphlet or an age-old yogic philosophy like Nirvana. But I assure you, it’s real. And it is solely reserved for the wildly mentally ill, ahem mentally transcendent.

The saying, “I feel sorry for those who have never gone mad,” is truly true.

What does it mean to me to be dependent? It means that my happiness depends on this transcendental state.

However, it’s tricky, because this state refuses to be maintained–merely reached, briefly lived in and then it disappears into a cloud of smoke. But without the inevitable valley (or sometimes ravine) one falls into proceeding having reached transcendence, such heights can never be attained again.

So I am learning to welcome the fall. I aim to feel comfortable with the drab guests, Monotony and Mediocrity. I am learning to court the Blues. I am trying not to question when they will leave or how wretched they make me feel. I am trying to taste the tea cakes at our table (but when I’m sad, I am not hungry). I am attempting to sip the scorching tea in my tiny teacup.

Because the low is well worth the high. The joy is made better by the cry. And furthermore, I am doing my best to embrace my madness… my sadness and even old, evil Apathy.

Hi, my name is Alison Shine. I am a Transcendent Dependent. And my story unfurls in the bubbles found on these pages.