Well, World, I'm here to tell you about madness. I'm here to tell you what frightens me most; my boogeyman. I'm so afraid of loosing myself, more so, my grip on reality. I truly fear insanity. For me, it's not just some out there notion, for me it's a realistic monster looming on my doorstep, outside my window, in the dark corners of my room--my mind, really. I don't know why I feel this way--I don't know why I'm even telling you this--except for maybe the hope that someone can help keep me grounded here. I like it here, it's nice. I don't want to leave yet, at least, not like that. You see, World, I'm bipolar. A rapid cycler, to be precise. I'm not one of those lazy assholes who can't control themselves, so they blame it on chemical screw ups. I'm the genuine article, folks, and I've refused medication for years. You don't know how hard it is to function like this. With each manic episode, the psychotic symptoms get worse, and they linger longer. You see, I experience some psychotic episodes in my mania, which is I experience things like a schizophrenic sometimes in my mania. Here, now, as I come down from this craziness (or maybe I'm going back up, who knows) I find it harder and harder to keep in mind what is real. I can't watch T.V. or read, especially not fantasy. Fantasy is dangerous to me, but I enjoy it anyway. I feel so lost afterwards, like I want to be back home in the made up world. I hear things, see things, feel things that aren't there. I begin a war in my own head, not knowing which side is good. And then the emotions flood me, spur me to actions I don't want to do. Sometimes it's nice, I don't really know what I'm doing, the ignorance is fantastic. Others, I feel like a spectator at the worst marionette show ever. Fighting for control exhausts me. The medicine isn't a good alternative, mind you. I know there may be a few out there who think I should just give in to meds if it will help. Truth is, they make my quality of living just as bad. I'd rather have fire and ice inside me than nothing at all. Lithium is the only real med for bipolar. Antidepressants only cover half the chemical basis, and therefore are inadequate. Lithium makes you gain tons of weight, hurts your kidneys and other valuable organs...like your heart...and it makes you, I don't know how to describe it, not there. I felt like a cracked out ghost. I felt like a body. I just hope I don't spiral out of control. I'm so scared each episode will last too long. Music helps calm me down. So does the OCD, although that can backfire. I feel like if I can control my environment, I can help control the episodes--both high and low. But sometimes the when I get too OCD, it compounds the emotions that are brewing beneath the surface. You see, if you had a good psych class, you'd have gotten this explanation: There's stages or a cycle in bipolar, typically. Depression, which is intense, and usually encompasses the majority of the cycle. There's a slightly normal stage, which for me a lot, is vapid. There's hypo-mania, which is that super happy awesomeness most people mistake for mania. Here, I'm happy, excited and exciting, flirtatious, funny, outgoing, and just the life of the party. When this turns into real mania, it's like watching a mirror shatter and seeing everything distort and turn strange shades of colors. Here, Em takes backstage and it comes out. My mania warps everything in hypo-mania; fun turns to danger, happiness to fanaticism, and usually intense wrath and violence. I could be incredibly dangerous to myself, but mainly to others. I've wanted to kill. I could've, too. Mind you, I have enough control to remove myself from the situation. I am not a danger to society. Training yourself to stop the monster, to take over her power, it's almost too much. Sometimes I'm the observer, sometimes it's like it chloroformed me and I'm out in the closet. I can't predict it. Meditation, martial arts, crafts to focus, philosophy, and anything to try and release endorphins and serotonin all help keep me functioning. This balancing act is tough, but it's my only way to function in society. I have too much I want to do before they haul me off, and when I'm truly me, I don't want to hurt people. I won't, don't get me wrong, I already said I'm not a danger to society. Bigots with a gun are more dangerous than I will ever be. Besides, I'd hurt with my hands and body before ever picking up a weapon...and those who know me, I'm a shrimpy kid. Some damage I would do, haha.
What a dramatic turn, eh World? This is part of my reason for writing this blog, release, control, understanding. Mental illness has such an ugly stigma surrounding it, but we need help. It is a common problem and disgustingly misdiagnosed. If we could all educate each other, things would be better on all sides. People could understand those like me and help us, while we help broaden the mind of society. I was in a phasing stage writing this, so I apologize, but I hope you can learn something, and in turn, let me learn from you.
Before I've even finished this entry, my mood has already changed. I feel clearer, I know what is real, and I'm "fine" now. At least things will never be boring in my life, I guess I can look at it that way, haha.
Namaste
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