Here is what happens to me
I want so much to read all of your blogs
and I want to write mine
and I want to look at my Twitter
and it’s all Bipolar
and I get to thinking about Bipolar
and before I know it
I’m reliving my Bipolar
I find myself slipping and I sign off saying no more today….
only to find myself sitting in memories…….
flooded with feelings and images
my unwashed hair in a flippy bun….ugly brown tank top (all i could find)…hot sweaty day….
lawn mowers quesadilas
tears of numbness
hollow pained everything
unable to move or think or be
having a friend call my Pdoc because I COULDN’T UNDERSTAND HER ANSWERING MACHINE MESSAGE.
Calling Pdoc….she’s out of town….the Doc on call for her says…”just wait till she gets back”….five days…..
and I see myself like I’m watching myself from the side and I want to grab my own shoulders and ….i don’t know
this was the day i started researching hospitals
this was the day i felt bipolar close around me like a pack of wolves and I realized more than I ever had before…
that i wasn’t going to defeat this with a bad ass attitude and white knuckled grit
I finally faced the reality that I could be destroyed
that the Bipolar was not a cute quirky thing about me like my Zodiac sign or my Vivid Imagination
It was this day that I decided I would take the meds…
my second round…around 2 years after my first….denial is a powerful beast…
and so I sit here in this memory…..
feeling that place to a point where I want to write it….
and it makes me feel Bipolar
and it makes me think even more about Bipolar
it puts me in a Bipolar place
and I feel detached in a way from the other things I was about to do…the normal domesticity of life…the nonBipolar tasks and amusements…
which now pale beside these glaring neon memories and feelings
and I have to find a way back to my life
But even so
I am beyond grateful to share and express and vent and process these things….
i know on some level this is what we/I need to do to deal with this Bipolar life
On another level I have to be so careful…
so careful it makes me nauseous
I wish that once in awhile I could not let everything bleed together
I wish I was better at not being so susceptible to it all
I thank you all for sharing your lives and stories and traumas and fears
Hearing you helps me see mine…feel mine…heal (?) mine
pEACE Love and Processing Shit Together