Marie Osuamoh

Wahalalafia

Wahalalafia. A fitting title to my first ever blog. If you know me you know that in every little speck of my life, I inject humour, to try and dispel any fear or qualms about life. A year ago, I found out the reason why my head was so scatterbrain and why the world (more-so mine) seemed to be heaven one minute and hell the next. Well, the reason was and still is Wahalalafia, or bipolar disorder. I suppose I give a name to it to demystify it, to make it less of a monster. (Though let me tell you, reader, it certainly is not a monster by any means). The uncertainty of this condition (I won’t call it a disease—I don’t think it is. Is this denial?) makes it even more fun. Almost like being on oblivion, knowing that you may or may not throw up but something will happen. I never wake up, (nor do I want to wake up) entirely sure of what I’m doing or where I’m going in life. I float, I glide, in a world where many peoples’ feet are on the ground, I glide. Gliding though unstable can be the most fun experience with this condition. Stability, though predictable is so boring. It’s not as if I enjoy being unstable, but I can’t lie. I like the ride.