My bipolar hat is constantly on. It’s more of a balaclava than a hat really – it’s not terribly fetching, it’s claustrophobic and annoying to wear, but happily, can be worn under other hats if that’s the kind of look you’re after.
To the outside world, they are shrouded in mystery. They are secretive and sinister institutes filled with dark, tormented souls. But are they really like that?
I’ve come to realise that by and large, people want to understand more about mental illness. People are now more aware than ever that this is a very real issue for very many people.
My self esteem was on the floor from constant rejection. I was tired of faking a smile. Tired of hiding my illness. Overwhelmed by everything.
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.