Take 2 cakes; one baked in a pan that was too small; the other in too big of a pan. The cakes are both lopsided, burnt on one side, not cooked on another. Rising was random. In other words, you have a kitchen disaster. These layers, “uniquely” represent the anger/frustration/binges/urges of hypomanic episode. (Variety of cake up to you: chocolate; vanilla; red velvet; cheese.)
Filling is needed to hold the two halves together so a two layer cake can be constructed; raspberry jam; chocolate chunks, gauche, toasted coconut any filling that will hold the two layers together. The filling represents those stable times when feeling a balance between anger and sorrow; it holds the cake and sometimes me together.
After you have balanced the two layers with filling and a few swift moves by a knife, it’s time to wrap the confection with icing (pick your favo(u)rite flavo(u)r)
I’m not a great icer; somehow the cake crumbs always get into it; I can’t put it on evenly – there are mountains and valleys of icing and a dilapidated “fence” around the sides (even when using the cake icing turntable). Icing is the depression that wraps me (and other bipolar 2 folks) in the shadows and is a constant companion.
I step back and look at my creation. A slice of the cake would give you a bipolar 2 dessert, consuming the three layers that lay bare the emotional turmoil, pain, binging, sadness, balance, and stability. Did you bring a fork?