Shattered

I have a form of bipolar that is pretty indescribable, which is why they call it NOS, Not Otherwise Specified. It’s a fragile place to live.

About this photo: I’m not sure why, but this drinking glass shattered spontaneously in my husband’s hand when he removed it from the cabinet the other night. It was sudden, surprising, and scary, but also beautiful. It looked like a dangerous flower. Beautifully reflecting light, and shaped in interesting ways, but also could easily do harm. It reminds me of how I feel a lot, especially when hypomanic, when things are unpredictable and potentially harmful, but can allow for beauty and creativity to surge at the same time. I especially like using those feelings to make art from things that are considered broken and destined for the trash, which is also how I feel sometimes.