At the beginning of my diagnosis I was completely in denial. So although diagnosed, I did not even acknowledge my diagnosis for the first 4 years.
But now 4 years later I can look back and see that I fit the criteria of a bipolar person. With my acceptance came a desire to be heard and help others gain a better understanding of what it is to live with bipolar disorder. Just like Mill’s stated everyone has there own personal story, it varies with each individual.
I have only regretted it when I’ve been met with ignorance or indifference, or fear. I have indeed been faced with others who have not been educated in regard to bipolar as well as other mental illness. More people seem to relate to depression because more individuals are faced with it, as opposed to bipolar. I once wore the label of “clinically depressed” I was first diagnosed with clinical depression in my 20’s. It seemed I was openly accepted being clinically depressed.
Because bipolar disorder is related to extreme shifts of mood. It’s laden with many unknown variables. The sensitivity of the illness and its ability to shift in opposite directions, leaves others worried about your personal stability and sensitivity.
But generally I’m at a place in my life where I bare the label with openness and willingness to educate others and answer questions to the best of my experience and struggles.
Treatment and upkeep of the disorder goes along way with the stability aspect. When you have a good history of stability in regard to treatment, it helps others feel secure in reaching out to you. People are fearful of what they’ve seen or not seen or heard. When someone is exposed to me for an extended period of time, Barriers breakdown and a level of acceptance is then replaced with prior apprehension I was met with. Truthfully you can’t be bipolar in society without meeting some prejudice. I believe this is true for all mental illness, not just exclusive to bipolar disorder, but all. It’s not limited to just my label, but all mental illness labels, and autism as well. Not for Reproduction~
Why does interest slack
It’s washed out muted colors
Not able to capture the attention
Yet void of substance
Once looked upon with delight
Scorned and neglected
Lumped into a category
~To what do I owe thee This life so shackled To the heavens do I look Oceans to the depths Fragmented memories Fading colors Grey emotions The road uncertain Light up ahead Crackling sound Shooting for stars Fall to the ground Fall to the ground~~
Ok. I’m gonna take you on a tour to try and experience what mania feels like. I’m writing about my traits mostly, and a few small stories along the way with added visual effects. So come on in…..
So What does a manic episode feel like? Lets begin. The fun part: (if there is such a thing) it’s like your on cocaine. So if you’ve ever done coke then that’s a good platform to grasp exactly how the early stages of mania feels like for me. Ten feet tall & bullet proof.
But what’s is the catalyst? For me It starts subtly, but there is always a trigger. My trigger is extreme external stress from specific conditions around me. So far this is what ignites the mania.
This stress will then manifest itself in Creative ways. First my interest in music increases. So much so that every song is speaking to me and was most likely written for me, and has special meaning that I’m obviously the only one able to receive the special message, the only one able to hear the encrypted meaning. I’ll think of a song I want to hear, I’ll shuffle my entire list of songs on my iPhone(740 songs) and about 9 times out of 10 the song I wanted to hear will be selected . “Wow that’s a connection” I’ll think. So now the universe is speaking to me through the songs as they play.
Next I’ll begin to have a pattern to my speech. Not only will I begin to speak faster but I’ll speak in riddles, rhymes and beats. I become the Dr Seuss of bipolar rhyming. And every word is profound and perfect. Why? “But of course” because its coming from me. I think to myself “it’s the nuggets of wisdom that fall from my mind, it’s the words that escape you that somehow I find” kinda stuff.
Then my sense of good judgement starts to breakdown and fail me. I’ll spend money on stuff that I normally would never do under sound mind.
Then I continue to fall faster into the rabbit hole.
Finally numbers come into play. I’m a 0101 baby, born January 1st! Alas I’m binary! And that ignites the magic around me. Things come to life and meaning can be found anywhere I look especially in numbers. Meaning to what? Meaning to life! How I can save the world! Wait I can’t even save myself.
Then truthfully animals and insects begin to interact with me. Example honeybees flock to me. Yes this is for real, as well as wasps. Here is a photo of the one wasp that followed me back to my hotel room for my weekend stay in Tampa(by myself) the wasp just chilled. I put it back outside later. Now I’m the queen of the bees! Or at least for the time being this seems to be the case.
So I’m in Tampa(alone)Mania full swing. What’s next you say? Next lets take life on a dangerous dare! I get into my car, decide at 7:00 am to go back home 2 hours away. But I’m gonna make it there in 1 hour & 15 minutes. Why? Well I can drive with such precision and ease when I’m super human. So much so that speeds of 100 miles an hour is achievable once my mind, my body and the road, adapt to my driving style. Which I proceed to drive the entire way home at speeds between 90 to 100 miles an hour. Can’t let that speedometer not be on my lucky number!! 0101 my birthday, the encrypted magical message. thinks to myself “Must keep achieving speed of 101! I can do it!” And I did. Thank God I’m alive to recall this to you, and that no one was killed
Oh I forgot to mention I’ve not really slept the last 48 hours. Then comes the low. I just want it all to stop. I literally wear myself out to a point that my mind plays tricks on me. I lose concept of time frames. Hours turn into days, days into weeks it seems.
And then darkness… Sadness. The gaping whole of humanity’s injustice sucks me into deep despair. So much injustice in the world, it takes me to dark cold places. “What’s the point” I think , I may or may not plan to exit existence… Where is that exit door? It’s just one action away.
Then I sit down and look around and the destruction of my actions lay at my feet all around me, I dare not try to list them, for there are many.
Slowly I begin to gather the pieces of my puzzle and try to put it together again.
After weeks sometimes months of seclusion, I slowly allow myself to go experience the external environment outside my front door.
The awe of Gods creation inspires me, and my Son… My beautiful son. He does not deserve this, I fall to my knees and begin to pray.
Yes there is so much more, more stories to tell, jaw dropping accounts of my madness and how it unfolded differently each time, and the different circumstances surrounding each event. But my Son.. He does not deserve this and neither do I. So I press onward .. And remember there is never a dull or bored moment. Ever! That’s what it feels like.