Bipolar? You suck. You didn’t try to kill me with a devastating suicidal depression. You didn’t turn me into the invincible, wreckless hypomanic being you sometimes do. You just were. You played with me and seriously tainted yet another precious time in my life.
The agitation and anxiety was exhausting. Even although my body and mind were crying out for rest, I simply couldn’t settle. The simple act of me being still was about as likely to happen as a baby lying still in the midst of the most excruciating bout of colic.
I got tired of feeling physically unwell every day due to my excesses. I got tired of chasing happiness, when quite clearly I was like a thoroughbred galloping full pelt down the wrong racetrack, so was never in any danger of sprinting over the happiness finishing line.
The running theme is that bipolar sucks. It seriously sucks. We are all battling like Mel Gibson in Braveheart with his painted face and bloody big shield to ward off the gremlin within us all. We are survivors.
GUEST BLOGGER – Alicia has shared in the most honest and genuine way, just what living with bipolar means to her. It demonstrates how different yet similar everyone’s experiences of the same illness can be. Thank you Alicia for being so brave in sharing your story. Continue reading “12 – Guest blog – On the right path”
Right now though? Right at this very minute?
The truth is I’m hypomanic. It’s 4.08am and I’m typing like an olympic touch typist.
The emotional weighing scales in my DNA seem to self calibrate of their own free will. And living with bipolar inexplicably grants these scales permission to tip at any given time.