Take the time

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

Have you ever be on a train or in a cafe or just walking from a place to a place doing things and seen someone? And there’s a heart-stopping moment where the universe decides to just stop and pay attention to you looking and them because they looked back. And that look has all the softness of a shotgun loaded with feathers.

I have. And I have done nothing about it. Because I can’t be sure if my reaction is appropriate. And I feel shame – actual remorse and self-loathing – for not knowing how to act.

Intellectually, that’s an extremely shitty part about being bipolar – having to monitor behaviour for signs of hypomania or depression. It sucks the joy out of every day moments.

But a good friend recently pointed out that acting on a sudden crush is actually 100% appropriate – as long as you act with respect, and respect the person’s response.

So next time you see someone who makes your jaw drop and your heart glitch in your chest, act on it.

Say hi. Smile. Maybe nod. If they do it back, try your hand at small talk. Or just ask them out there and then, what the hell?

And tell me how it goes!

God Dammit Mr Williams

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

Trigger Warning: I talk a lot about death.

+++++

Mr Williams, we met only once, and very briefly. It was after one of your shows here in my home town. On stage you were full of fire – the audience’s shrieks and howls seemingly fuelling you as you dropped line after hilarious line.

“Voluntary Tourette’s” you called it. I called it “why are my ribs so damn sore”.

But after the show, outside the venue, you were more restrained, on edge, almost fearful of the handful of people around you. That could be hindsight, foreshadowing, or wanting to see things in retrospect. I don’t know. I just remember how nervous I was in your presence.

Now I’m feeling something. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just argh.

Mr Williams, I get by on my talents and skills and training and luck. Right now, in this space, my options are limited by funds and chance. At times it feels like my healthy existence is largely predicated by goodwill from a wide range of sources. And I am sort of at peace with this – most of the time.

I can imagine that you also had times where you were at peace with your lot, grateful for your experiences, content with your existence. You had options, same as I do. And family and friends to support you. Same as I do.

But depression don’t care. And if you were anything like me, Mr Williams, then at times in that place, that desert of depression, you felt out of options. Like every choice you could make would only lead to Shit City? I am familiar with that feel – I freeze with indecision and fear, then melt into apathetic boredom. And the people? I feel ashamed that they have to deal with me and my lack of options.

But here’s the kicker, Mr Williams. Here’s what I’ve learned from your death.

Self-slaughter is an end of options.

Self-slaughter isn’t a plan, not really. All it does is remove the chance of ever having any options ever again. No more plans, no more choice. Both for you and the rest of the world.

And that, Mr Williams, is what I’m taking from your death.

+++++

I’m so sorry, Mr Williams. I just really wanted to talk to you. There, on that evening outside the venue, one on one.

I wanted to talk to you about the choices I’d made because of your work. I don’t know why. Kind of a selfish want, I know, wanting you to notice that you had made a difference to me. I guess it’s a human thing, wanting other people to know they matter – to extend their experience in some small yet positive way.

And now? Now I don’t have that option.

Grenade

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

I love my family. My friends are a constant source of amusement and joy. My work and colleagues are fulfilling and distracting in equal measure. Life is good.

But like a certain character in a certain movie book (and now a movie), I feel like I’m a grenade. Like my only purpose is to go off, to hurl shrapnel and pain into the ones I love. And I know this is possible because I’ve done it before.

This is not an ideal way to live. Waking every day being unsure what I’ll say, how I’ll act, what events lie in wait that could pull my pin.

But there is a way forward. Yes, the feelings of inevitability and the need for vigilance are valid, real. But so is the fact that almost everything – everything – is recoverable. There may be hard work, hard words, hard times, but nothing insurmountable.

Because people are resilient. Not just me – I’m tough, and I know I’m tough – but the people around me. The people I care about, they know what I am – know about the shrapnel and the chemical forces behind it all – and they choose to stay of their own free will.

Because to them I am worth it. Plus, they’re tough too.

And if – no, when – when I go off, they are smart enough to keep their distance. And also kind enough to help pick up the pieces.

Change of pace

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

So this blog is about the tings I feel, summed up into a word or phrase. The aim? Name that feel, and by naming it give it form and look at it with fresh eyes. But I think I can do more.

Reverse the Bipolarities has more followers than I thought it would ever get. It feels good. I’ve read your stories. And I’d like to give something back.

What would you say if I changed the format a bit? Like maybe list how I dealt with it, or didn’t deal with it, or whatever insight I can get that is worth sharing?

That way the blog can live up to its name – reversing the negatives of bipolar. Maybe give back some of the support you’ve already shown.

Would you like that?

Editor-at-large

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

The job or an editor is disturbingly complex. Part proofreader, part lawyer, part marketing expert – but still an artist in their own right.

An editor keeps the story on track, points out the bits that don’t make sense, and asks intelligent questions that makes your content better -and makes you a better writer – even though you secretly hate the extra work.

An editor makes you more productive and able-minded by filtering out the crap and reshaping the weird into stuff that you can handle.

My editor has gone on holiday. And I’m making mistakes.

Soundtrack

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

My family tells me they can tell when I’m going hypo because I start listening to songs, albums or playlists on repeat.

Heady beats, driving bass, ecstatic drops – whatever. I don’t know anything about music. I don’t even know I’m doing it. I just know what I like at the time. I know it makes me feel.

It’s weird to think that something so personal as taste in music changes depending on mood-state, as predicated by a mental illness. Being bipolar literally changes what you like – it doesn’t enhance you, it changes you.

Now I’m wondering if there’s actually a specific set of tunes that triggers hypomania, or if hypomania itself has a playlist.

Is music therapy a thing?

What about you? Do you have a soundtrack?

19 Steps

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment
  1. Endure a number of episodes unnoticed
  2. Act out and destroy things/people
  3. Retreat
  4. Avoid everything
  5. Get confronted by family and friends
  6. Get hospitalised
  7. Self assess
  8. Decide you need to see a GP
  9. See a GP, get referred to psychologist
  10. See a psychologist, get referred to psychiatrist
  11. Argue with the psychiatrist, because they’re shit at their job
  12. Get a better psychiatrist who gets you
  13. Do the sessions/take the meds
  14. Eat/sleep/exercise/meditate
  15. Manage your self better, and learn the signs
  16. Build a safety net of family and friends
  17. Get continually better
  18. When an episode is coming, let people know
  19. Repeat

+++++

[shirt]

The Screw-you Genie

reversethebipolarities_oqhia1Leave a comment

I have this voice inside my head. No, okay, not a voice, not in the “hearing voices” kind of way. A personality? No, that’s MPD. It’s more like a splinter of personality?

Anyway, I like to think of it as a genie that lives in a lamp in my head. It’s quiet most of the time, but when I’m in a position where I am expected to comply – with anything – the expectation rubs the lamp and the genie comes out and starts jumping and yelling and throwing things.

“YOU WANT THIS GUY TO DO A THING I DON’T THINK SO BUDDY YOU AIN’T THE BOSS OF MY PAL FUCK YOUR EXPECTATIONS WE DO WHAT WE WANT WE AIN’T SIGNING SHIT”

I call it the “screw-you” genie, because the only wish it grants is the capacity to flip people the bird without giving a shit.

And, you know, I’ll sign the damn paper or whatever, because it needs doing, and I just tell the genie to shut up and get back in its box/lamp/whatever.

But when I’m too weak to control it – when I’m dead-tired or angsty or I’ve been drinking or I’m heading towards depression – it gets loose. And just like the trickster djinns of old, it starts causing trouble by granting wishes I didn’t even know I had. And all the noise usually makes in my cranium suddenly comes spilling out of my mouth.

And I’m finally beginning to realise that this stupid genie has been responsible for oh-so-many incidents where I’ve lost friends and gained nothing but regrets in return – where I’ve suddenly flipped out and said things or done things that are out of character.

At least, I’d like to think they are. Stupid genie. Stop granting wishes I don’t even want.