When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, it was as if I had been given a new lens through which to view the world.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
But there’s a fine line between inspiration and desperation. What’s thrilling in the moment often loses its glamour in the light of day.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
My highs, my lows, my triumphs, my failures...This was me. This is me. Everything I am.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
I had always suspected there were realms of human experience I was missing out on. Now I knew. It was like discovering a new color.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
I don’t think anyone could truly understand what it’s like to be bipolar. It’s a whirlwind, a tempest, a white-knuckle ride with no seatbelts.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
Art was my way of making sense of the chaos. Every line, every color was a step towards understandingEllen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
I was not alone. I was part of a grand tradition. Like Van Gogh. Like Sylvia Plath. Like Michelangelo.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
My mania was like flying. But what goes up must come down. The crash was inevitable.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
At my lowest points, even the smallest tasks felt insurmountable.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me
I am not my disorder. It’s part of who I am, but it does not define me.Ellen Forney, Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me