[Naming the ups and downs of bipolar, one feel at a time]
Being diagnosed with a mental illness is terrifying because you are essentially told that your reality is abnormal.
But for me, diagnosis is less scary than not knowing why.
Because without the why, I would have no hope of effective management. And my reality would become unmanageably abnormal.
Instead, my reality is now manageably abnormal – and I’ll take that diagnosis any day.
It’s raining. Do you decide to cancel your activities? Not see your friends, stay away from your job? Sometimes. But more likely, you’ll do the intelligent thing and grab an umbrella.
Will you get wet? Sure, a little. But you’ve done the smart thing, so the damage is minimal, and when the rain clears you can be happy with the results of your efforts.
Now, let’s liken depression and hypomania to weather. It’s not a straight-up comparison – none of that sunlight-for-happiness-and-clouds-for-sad bullshit. No. I mean:
Knowing this, you can still choose to do the intelligent thing.
Grab an umbrella. Even if all your doing is sitting in a park. Or sitting in your room reading the internet on a laptop. Grab an umbrella for the inside – talk to your doc, the therapist, your family – let them know what’s happening. Do the exercises, eat good, be kind to your meat-suit.
You will still feel the effects – you will still get wet – but I think it’s better than being drenched.
You know that feel you get where you’ve had too much coffee? Your heart beats fast and strong, energy courses through your being, but you’re so scattered you don’t know what to do first.
When the dude in front of you in the line at the shopping cart can’t decide if he wants to pay with cash or credit?You just want to shake him and tell him it doesn’t matter.
When you’re traveling with that one guy who just doesn’t get it? We’re all in the same boat, mate. We’re all here for the same reason – good times – and your dramatics aren’t helping in that direction.
BUT what do you do when there’s no dude? No line? No coffee?
When you’re just so agitated and aggressive, but there’s no external cause?
This is the bad side of hypomania. This is the part that ruins all your hard work. But what can you do?
Grin and bear it?
Well, well, would you look at that?
In one day I have completed a massive amount. Yes, I know it’s thanks to hypomania. And I’m doing my best to steer clear of unsettling elements.
These include:
And instead I am:
Wish me luck!
So I’ve landed in a tropical paradise. Palm trees, rum, beaches. Feeling pretty smug, I have to admit. But this isn’t just a holiday – I have work to do – so I’m using that energised feeling to get stuff done.
What stuff, you ask? Well. you’ll just have to wait and see…
Reverse The Bipolarities on Facebook
We’re growing! With nearly 100 followers, I figured it was time to start spreading the feels across new mediums. So I’ve set up a Facebook page where we can all talk if we want. Or just read. You know. Safe space.
For the first time in a long time, I am going on a journey. Not a figurative one, or a personal one, or even an allegoric one. I am getting on a plane with my passport and my bags and changing time zones, countries, languages.
I am scared. The what-ifs are everywhere.
But I have spent years getting here. Training my brain to think around emotive responses as best it can, to avoid the amygdala hijack. To be cool when things run hot – to stay aware when things are dark.
I will be fine.
+++++
I love freckles and tattoos, dyed hair and bolshiness.
I place value on sarcasm and perceived depth.
I desperately seek a yogi mind behind Clubwalker sunglasses, hiding a raging awareness of missed opportunities behind a thousand-yard stare.
I feel like I miss the point of calmness.
I’m in love with bits and pieces of people and situations and they are never enough to make a lasting connection.
Why do people even like each other?
I saw you this one time at a party.
I put on this one song I liked and you asked if it was this one band and I said yes and you winked.
That wink struck hard and fast. The chorus came on and suddenly there was dancing and I suck at dancing – but there’s no space on the dance floor for being self-conscious.
Then the party came to a close and there was only one thing left to do – I had to ask you a question.
But I didn’t then. So I’m asking now.
Who are you and can I buy you dinner?
YES
Everything is coming up fucking roses.
Got a date. Got a party to go to. Got plane tickets.
Life is amazing! I can do anything! Let’s go to India!
MOVE TO MELBOURNE AND OPEN A PIZZA SHOP THAT’S ALSO A RECORD STORE AND HAVE ALL THE SEX IN THE WORLD
What do you mean “calm down”?
+++++
Recently I had a hypomanic episode that was, at its height, fucking ridiculous. Yes, good things did happen, but to me these happenings were literally signs from the universe that I was making all the right choices.
They were not. They were just good things that happen.
But when I get in that headspace – when the good chemicals are flowing freely – I just want to share it. All the good stuff.
I get aggressive. Obnoxious, perhaps, or just loud.
And it’s almost like I can see it their eyes, these people around me. Friends and family, faces on the street. They know something is going on, but they don’t know what.
And they don’t know how to react. And at the time I don’t care.
But afterwards, I get it. And sometimes, like now, I feel ashamed.
How do you tell someone they’re having too much fun?