There are two modes of bipolar 1, as well as bipolar 2. In fact in all bipolar diagnosis you have two modes. Some of the bipolar labels have mixed modes which means being hypo manic and depressed at the same time.
~You point out all the reasons to not be depressed. I see clearly the things you so readily direct my attention to.
What you can not see is for all the positives you see, there are negatives waiting to consume the positives you point out to me.
Awaiting the circumstance to sneak my way in, and you’ll question the link of genetics again. But regardless you will not win, and I’ll not give a clue, because its to easy to get within you.
Invisibility to me can not be acquired , nor obtained. The seeds are well planted and I’ll make you feel that all is for granted.
I prefer to romance you, woo as you will. Tinker and tangle the web I can weave, and the beauty of all, is I’ll never leave. Not for long at least, but when I’m away, you might enjoy life for more than a day.~
That’s what they think
Washed out color
Long halls painted grey
Not a door insight
Ideas out of focus
Lack luster, incredulous
emotions …….Clawing away the life fingers scraping their nails jagged and bloody, threads unravelling.. like the sound of a chalk board being scratched.
That’s what stigma, bias does isolates you.
Yet I exist Wrapped inside this cocoon~
Generic and uncategorized yet longing to be labeled and in a category ~ oh wait, I am… I fall under stigma mental illness under my skin, unseen yet relentless in my mind there are millions of my kind.
One size fits all as long as that size is extra large as to swallow my frame,as well as yours.
Swallowing my existence whole~
Don’t play on my playground
The rusty parts might cut you
The hinges may come off
The railing is weak
Don’t play on my playground
They’ll think you a freak
You want to be here on this grey dingy playground no it can’t be
You’ll be on this playground that’s owned by me
It’s so easy to get hurt don’t you see
My playground although dented and corroded is made just for me
I’ve cared for it poorly
It’s not to late
To play safe on the merry go round
I’ll sit and watch and wait
No I’d rather the thrill of the rollar coaster you know
There is fear in my eyes but it won’t show
I’ve played on my play ground for so long the fear I had now has made me strong
It’s been far to long get off my playground off my merry go round as well
I have a few choice words I’ll keep to myself oh what the hell
There is no more us not now no story to tell
Get off my playground
It’s being renovated
So shiney and new
My playgrounds reserved only for few
That means my playground is not for you
Suicide is what happens when the pain and hell you feel each day on earth overshadows the fear of a Hell in the after life or a meager existence if reincarnated.
And so the ocean welcomed her with open arms and swept her away from the hell on earth she lived. She whispered a Prayer that her father accepts his child as any father would whose child endured to much pain.
I’m in the grey…….
Grey Chasm swallows
I’m in the grey it’s where I’ll stay for now
I will not attempt to move quickly
Nor will I be rushed
Do I fascinate?
Do I invoke fear? Hate?
Am I your guilty pleasure…
Is there no distance yet to measure?
I’ll create my walls
Build my tower strong
Brick by brick no matter how long
Exterior crusted over with
Innuendos and regret
I’m in the grey
I will not be pulled away
In this Chasm I will stay
Until I decide, until that day
You can not reach me… There is no definitive here
No truth or lie
If I want to stay until I die
It’s then a matter of choice
The beauty of my grey instilled in me a voice
Slowly it drips…..spill forth from my lips
Turning my words to black and white
Finally to distinguish which is wrong and which is right
But I shall not take flight oh no, I will move slowly with precision
At the end of the day it’s my decision
For now I’m in the grey area
Safely in my tower, walls erected
While my thoughts become collective
In the grey
Well, I’m speaking of my experience.
No and yes.
When manic, your sense of boundaries are skewed. The filter that most individuals use and have in place cease to exist.
In the manic phase, mania takes on many forms. Strong hostility, as well as a viscous tongue can arise if provoked even the slightest by someone who at one time or another failed me, these fails will indeed rise to the surface.
With that I’ve never been dishonest with my words but verbally abusive would fit. What I would say was often very true about what I felt about things they’ve done. But it was said very harshly, and with viscous intent. The message I conveyed was not false , but was said in such abrupt disregard that it would leave its scar.
Threatening. I only threatened when I was threatened. By that I mean because I’m bi polar, and may be within a confrontation , statements ” like you need to take your meds”or “no one will believe you cause you crazy ” will set me off, especially since those words are meant to make me feel less than, and with ignorance. Which at that point I will zone into all character flaws of the said individual I’m in conflict with and rip them to shreds, at which point I can leave them speechless.
In short I must be provoked in order to act in such ways. Granted I’m more sensitive when manic. So if the person is aware of my state. Then all could be avoided. It’s all in the care, in the handling.
Most of those whom I’ve done this too, had in most cases abandoned me when I may have needed them most. And when they needed me most I was there for them in their time of need.This is why I’ve burned a few bridges. But if they were unsupportive of me after my diagnosis then those bridges need not be crossed again.
These are my experiences , the only thing I felt bad for was how I said it. How I said it, and my intent behind it. But I was never sorry for speaking the truth.
Written 16 Dec, 2013. Asked to answer by Marcus Ford.