Bipolar II – A Day in the Life

It’s really beautiful, the view from the top. So beautiful I want to cry. I’m flying. I’m invincible. I’m full of grand ideas and grand plans and grand words. So very many words. The world is my proverbial oyster, and dammit I’m going to hold onto that slippery little sucker with all of my might. And I do. I do hold onto it.

Until I don’t. Until something weird starts to creep in. It’s unpleasant and frenetic and exhausting, like a million neurons are firing at once. I can’t get comfortable in my own skin. I can’t sleep, because it’s more important that I research opening up my gym. Or coffee shop. Or buying the church that’s for sale on the corner.

I can’t sleep because my skin is crawling. Because my heart is pounding. Because I’m drowning in my own thoughts, and feelings, and words. Because there’s just not. enough. time. I’m scared and I’m exhilarated, all at the same time. I text a friend at 2:00 in the morning and then get my feelings hurt when she doesn’t respond.

And then my feelings are hurt all the time. My feelings are hurt by what you said, by what you didn’t say, by what I thought you meant. My feelings are hurt by my own active imagination and it is EXHAUSTING. It strangles me. I see what’s happening, I see it like I’m looking at a stranger, but I’m powerless to stop it. I don’t blame anyone for deciding they can’t be my friend, for deciding they hate me. I hate myself.

I’m not flying anymore. I’m sinking. Sinking and sinking and sinking. I could claw my way up, but the walls are slippery. The darkness is enticing. It swallows me whole. There’s no more color, there’s no more joy. There is blackness. Like a cloud that I carry with me everywhere I go. I go through the motions, but I’m not there. I’m ensconced in the ugly safety of my cloud. I’m oblivious to everything that isn’t darkness. I’m crying but I’m not SAD, and I’m offended by anyone who uses the word. I’m nothing. I’m a shell.

I have to force myself to shower, to leave the house, to see people. My God, people. I convince myself that I’ll never connect with another person as long as I live. Who’d want to connect with someone so broken? So dark and so lifeless? Who’d want to connect with someone who isn’t even connected to herself?

I’ve forgotten the view from the top. I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is.

And then, for a blissful and limited period of time I’m “normal.” My life is normal, my relationships are normal, my feelings are normal.

Until one day, without warning, I’m flying again.

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8 Comments

Filed under bipolar, depression, mania, mental health, Uncategorized

8 Responses to Bipolar II – A Day in the Life

  1. Eliz

    Wow, thank you for this. Thank you for sharing and helping me understand a tiny bit. Thank you.

  2. YES. THIS is what my life was like before realizing I wasn’t ADHS, I was type 2 bipolar, and got mood stabilizers. And it’s still like this when things are stressful, or my dose is off. Thank you. One reason I’ve worked so hard to make the character in my new middle grade fantasy novel struggle with these issues.

    • jen

      Yes, getting on proper medication changed my life. I too, still get like this when too stressed or when I need a med adjustment. And very cool about using your experiences in your novel!!

  3. Alex

    Thank you for putting all this into words. While I’m not diagnosed as bi-polar, I have fluctuating moods that cause a lot of suffering. It can be so hard. I recognize the feeling of being on top of the world and then feeling like a small detestable maggot no one could possibly love. I am familiar with the sensation of watching it unfold and being powerless to stop it.

    5 years into unschooling and I thought i might have figured things out better. I guess there is some progress. I worry I’m not healing fast enough as my kids get bigger so quickly. How do you live with these big feelings and stay present with your children? I worry about how I might affect them and yet they say they love their life and wouldn’t have it any other way. I get down on myself that I’m not better for them.

    • jen

      I think the simplest answer is that when things are getting bad, or heading in that direction, I know it’s time to take better care of myself and/or get in to see my dr about med adjustments. I haven’t been a perfect parent, to be sure, but I try to put them first, and they’ve been extremely understanding during the times when I’ve been a little off-the-rails. We’re all on the same team, and they just want me well.

  4. Amy

    This is so interesting. I have a similar experience, but without the highs. In either pretty normal, or I drop into the abyss.
    I’m so sorry you have this disease, but I’m grateful to you for sharing your experiences. It really helps with understanding. As a nurse, the insight you provide is invaluable.

  5. Carrie

    thanks for this. I shared it to facebook since the option was there. I haven’t been checking the blogs lately but when I caught up on your posts, I was thankful for your writing !

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