I wanna Suck the Mania Off her with Straw! Should we really let the Manic dude Talk?



hey bitches

and male bitches (?)

how about a story post

i don’t feel like being all deep and academic and thoughtful about shit so how about i just regale you with the tale of me and a support group

it happened when….

ok wait CAVEAT TIME…i think support groups are a fab idea.  I would LOVE to find a good one and all shit like that.  I have only tried one support group.  Which is why I’m not writing ALL about ALL support groups…just bitching about one.

before i tell the story i will just out and say that my biggest beef is that there is a dearth of BIPOLAR support groups for Bipolar people

we get thrown in as an afterthought with all of the unipolars

don’t get me wrong

unipolars are great

but it isn’t the same


and i don’t even think that our depressions are really the same

so sure some things we can talk about or whatever but i’m just not going to feel all satisfied talking to the unipolars about my bipolar issues

ok where to begin

i was unmedicated at this point but trying to like do things to like be responsible etc and so i found the support group near me.

it happened to be peer run etc whatever

it was a crazy hot summer day

shorts tanks windows down music up flip flops sunglasses

i’m stuck somewhere in Bipolarworld swirling through a mixed rapid super cycling ultra radian Bipolar shitshow

which had me manicky agitated irritable expansive full of joy fun and wack

and also angsty and empty and hurting and rawly sensitive as fuck

followed my gps to the wrong fucking place trying to find a way in trying to park


as UsUal

and so i creep into this church building with no idea where to go or what is happening and having to pee real bad

i hear voices down a hall….(thanks for all the signs bitches) (Literals, there weren’t signs)

and crack the door of a hot stuffy room

all of the chairs are in a circle…right this makes sense

and everyone is quiet and staring at the dude talking

he happens to be sitting directly in front of me at the door and the only empty seat (that i see in my awkward whatthefuckness) is right beside him

so i creep forward and sit down

i say creep but there was a rather rattling show of car keys and sunglasses cases and purse zippers

so i sit and listen to this man

as he talks

and talks

and talks



and i’m a manicky ADHD hyper girlie and i can barely focus after three mins

and i can barely sit still after seven

and i begin to fear that i won’t be able to behave like a normal human for very much longer

that i will HAVE to start letting my leg vibrate up and down at a god awful speed looking all around me like i’m expecting the good year blimp to fly through at any moment and i will have to start staring at the ceiling and taking deep breaths and making clicking sounds with my tongue

but i endure

i stare all around the room

i count tiles

i catch whiffs of what he is saying and i am able to pick up that he is manic

(um yeah)

but people it went on


and LORD KNOWS i have compassion for crazy bipolar people

and LORD KNOWS i care deeply about manic people

and i don’t want to come across as some nutty little bitch who couldn’t be nice to the manic guy

but for the love of god

no one ever cut him off

and he used like the WHOLE time

well except that he didn’t because it just went over time until everyone got a chance to talk as long as they wanted about whatever they wanted….all around the circle

and that is all that happened

people said their shit and then it moved to the next person

no responses

no conversation

no nothing

and i couldn’t stand this…both this part…and the next time i went because I couldn’t bear to hear some of this hurting and say nothing….that’s not my nature

but anyway when this guy FINALLY finished and everyone nodded when he suggested that maybe he should refill his lithium….

all eyes turned to me in the next chair


i think i said something like a couple years ago they said i was bipolar then i didn’t think i was now i think maybe i am and i’m just here ok because my friend wants me to have “support” so give me some fucking “support”

i didn’t say the last part like that

but i spoke for .32100000 seconds

maybe less

and then it moved on

i honestly do not know how i sat through the whole thing

i couldn’t believe everyone else was sitting through the whole thing

i was like wtf how is everyone just all blah in their chairs

where are the agitated manicky mixedy Bipolars

then I realized they weren’t there

they were all unipolar depressed

content to just SIT

while i like seriously might as well have been asked to do long division….such was my intense level of effort on something basically impossible for me to do

old manic guy from the beginning left soon after he talked

so there is that

and then the one other Bipolar besides me finally joined us….

he was dicking around in the hall talking on his phone…

came in late and sat in a seat

fidgeted and looked around

waved at me (cuz i was new i guess)

and then proceeded to mess around on his phone

when he spoke it was obvious he was a member of the inner circle of this group and seemed to be “above the rules” perhaps everyone understanding his Bipolar needs

I was happy that there was another real Bipolar there

So this was not a very awesome meeting for me

since i mostly felt like i was dying and being tortured by having to sit still so long

(once in college my oh so multiculturally inclined friend went to a show thing and for some reason i went with her and basically lost my manic mind in boredom.  it was intense. and i didn’t manage it well since she lists it as one of the like three times in our relationship that she was actively angry with me)

but i was trying to be a good little “maybe i’m bipolar” girl and I went back

sigh eyeroll head shake

the second time i was later

i was even more manic though less agitated and less depressed

and da da da

there was another Bipolar chick there

i could TELL

just by looking at her across the circle

gorgeous slinky sundress

kept crossing and uncrossing legs back and forth

sigh fold arms and exhale at the ceiling

and the telltale vibrating leg

she leaned forward wide eyed interested in me

and once it had been established that we were on the same team we kept smiling at each other across the circle….a Bipolar girl flirt session

the antsy Bipolar guy from the last time was there again….

in and out of the room

all over the place

but when I spoke this time I Spoke People

I spoke about the whole what is me and what is Bipolar and identity and Bipolar and the meds question…does it change us etc etc etc

he stopped and hung on my words honey oh yes

and after the group

he came to me and said YES that was Exactly how he felt!

and we had a great conversation and i felt like hugging him just because i never met anyone who would understand that

as for my darling fellow Bipolar Female….

we pressured speech partied in the parking lot for another 500 years

and i was like YES

a bipolar friend!

but my little Jiminy Cricket was saying LOSE HER NUMBER THIS ISN’T GOOD



I could SMELL the mania on her

I could SEE it wafting off of her skin like dry ice

and my inflamed mixedish little brain went


and I wanted to suck the mania out of her aura with a straw and fill my own lungs with it

and I was manicky enough that I wasn’t thinking about getting together over boring decaf coffees and venting about our Bipolar

I was envisioning the two of us dressed to the nines and painting the town red manic

and i wanted that


i wanted that

so badly

but we never got together

i knew we shouldn’t

i knew that we weren’t good for each other

and our emails faded out

it makes me sad but i do know it was the right thing at the time

i wasn’t “stable” enough

i wonder if i’ll ever be “stable” enough to handle someone else’s mania in my presence

without getting swept up in it

so anyway let’s wrap this thang up

i didn’t go again

the group was very closed off…many of them expressed (while us newbies were there) that they wished that new people didn’t come because they wanted it to just be the original crew….and while there were some of the old members who were aghast at these sentiments and the way they were being expressed….

it was more than enough to get me to say

fuck that shit

and so that is the end of my experience with support groups

i hope you enjoyed the show

come again soon

don’t be a stranger

close the door on your way out

open it when you come back it

take a left turn at the Dairy Queen

stop before you fall into the purple lake

and never ever ever post when manic


Goodnight San Francisco!



Peace Love and Vibrating the bench that everyone is sitting on













I have a confession to make


sorry for being so absent

i just really don’t have anything i feel like is worth saying

i have old stuff that never got around to being published but i just never feel like going back….

i always just want to write it out and hit publish bam done

like i never want to eat the leftovers i froze in the fridge

but maybe i’ll go ahead and publish some anyway


i’m not gonna write shit to just write shit.

and i’m just like still in break mode

still need to be in break mode but having “mood” issues so i keep falling off the wagon

if you’re reading my other blog than you know some of the great things i’ve been getting out of my break

some of my deep thoughts and inspirations

and i love it

but the demon mania/hypomania/hyperwhatevereverthefuck mixed with bouts of


so i thought i should come clean to you all……

did ya ever guess it?……


it’s true

i can see all of your jaws on the floor





feels good to finally be out


it always comes back

what is this life

this bipolar life

it’s like fish skin on the floor of the fine dining restaurant

how can this ugliness exist in it

how can this exist side by side

in these beautiful creatures

next to these spectacular masterpieces

over cooked broccoli

chocolate mousse

a life of extremes

a life with no real in betweens



up down

and always always always


in that passenger seat

ready ready ready

to take the wheel


it just always

has the wheel

do we ever have the wheel?

why is it so elusive

this baselines thing

that goes on forever

my baseline is all over the place

and that is fine

it is manageable

sometimes i feel exhausted by the minor ups and downs all of the time

but sometimes i worry that i wouldn’t recognize my life or my self without them

i worry that i would miss them

in a way

but i know that my normal consists of




it is all i’ve ever known

it will probably be all i ever know

up high quick creative bubbly assured

down low dragging sighing insecure

i love the world

i hate the world

i love everything

everything is stupid

i’m amazing

no one cares about me

i could do all of these amazing things

i can’t even stand

the bipolar life

and as i write this word press keeps telling me over and over that the saving of the draft failed

and it seems fitting

because that is part of the low


fail fail



what has to happen to normies for them to experience the emptiness we feel

the heartbreak

the lonely terror

the pain

i don’t want to know

i don’t want to talk about it

because it must be bad

it must be sad

it must be horrible

and i don’t want anyone to go through it

whether it is because something happens in life

or because you’re brain is fucked up different

i don’t want anyone to feel it

but i know that most of you are probably feeling it now or have felt in in the past couple of days or weeks or months or years (lucky bitches)

the sucker punch

the bipolar sucker punch

we brave up

we stand up

we fight for it

for life

for breath

for just being


and we resolve to fight it

to beat it?


and we roll along in sundresses and wine spritzers and picnics

and trees blowing in the wind and sunshine shadows on driveways

and wafting laughter

and stars shining down

and we feel that elusive


and then somewhere in between the laundry folding and the dead grass we start to feel high or low or whatever

and then


the bipolar sucker punch

and all of a sudden



the kind of emptiness that aches

the kind of emptiness that makes no sense

and we reach and cling and try to make it go away


and again

it comes again

and we fight through it


sit with it again

and eventually

it goes


it comes back

it always comes back

I want Freedom in My Happiness

Awhile ago I tweeted a tweet that people seemed to like. I may forget the exact wording but it was a response to someone and it went….

One of the saddest parts of being Bipolar is that we begin to fear our own happiness.

And this remains sad to me

It also remains difficult to curtail this part…the idea of oncoming mania and the need to maybe stop something that is pleasurable.

Because happiness is like our human reward. It is the thing we crave, we seek, we strive for, we live for.

For lots of people the expansion into a feeling of pure happiness is welcome and savored.

As it is for some of us some of the time

But too often for us the feeling of happiness…that glistening gift…is followed quickly by fear…by anxiety…by a quick tally and rundown and add up of the situation and the past situations…

Is this mania??? Am I hypo??? And I making myself hypo with this happiness???

And we have to wonder whether we should continue or stop or change activities and try something else and we have to challenge ourselves and it just is


and it feels really fucking unfair

And t makes you want to shout




Sun does this to me

I love sun

Love it

Not in a tanning way

Been there done that burnttheshitoutofmyself

But sigh man

I love it

And sitting in it…after the winter dark and cold

Cool breeze on bare feet and arms while sun warms down to the core….

Like the golden saturation of a gorgeous mania after a dark cold depression

And I feel the shifting within myself

The quietness receding…

And something bubbly and magical and FUN

Rising rising rising to the surface

Begging to be dusted off…

And shown off

Begging to be given a chance to run the show…

For just a little awhile


And I smile to myself

And I feel ALIVE

And I love it

And I think

I should go inside

I think

This could ruin everything

I think

this isn’t fair

I just want happiness

But then again

Maybe MY (our) happiness Isn’t normie happiness and it is SO good it should in fact come with a price…

The price of doubt and fear and guilt

But these small things that “trigger” us….that force us to come up against our Bipolar even when we have not thought about it for weeks….these things that remind us that it lives and that we have to contend with it…

Whether we like it or not


Well I guess they just happen

And they are annoying

And my depression triggers are all over the fucking place

And my agitated buzzy mania ones are ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE

but happy white mania triggers

Are far and few between

And I love them

And I want them

And I don’t like to stop them


The sun drenches me and must start running around my brain with sparklers

Because all of a sudden

I feel


And I think


I hate this shit

And I really do consider that if I did not have a family that I would say



So much more

That I would indulge it

Love it

Be free in it

And feel

ALIVE in it

So much more

But I do have a family

I do have responsibilities

And I can’t

I checked those privileges at the OB’s office when I saw that fluttering heartbeat

My life is not mine to fuck with

And so

I have no choice

But to care



And all of the time

But oh how I long to just expand into the feeling until I’ve become one with the universe and the birds pulsate with light and the clouds swirl and the rain falls down in colors

And more simply

How I long for

Freedom in happiness


Searching for Balance Embracing Challenge


I feel ambivalent here…because I’m not sure I want to do this right now…and I don’t want to make a big thing about it with a post all about it HA

but I know how I am

and it is time for another small break

a cave

a retreat

I’ve learned that taking time off from all of it…not just writing but also the internet and just thinking so much about Bipolar

actually gives me more motivation

and less

buzzy manicky overstimulatedness

which is welcome

My ambivalence is that the last few weeks I was craving silence and stillness and a break very desperately and for some reason decided yesterday is when I would start….

it is a rhythmic collective time when a lot of people explore something deeper…

it is also winter which as I said in I Want To Hold Hands With the Silence in My Head…..always feels to me like a time for inner work…exploration…and deeper meanings.

Sorry to sound all precious and navel gazing and deep shit about it

but it works for me

and I’m encouraged to still do it.

And I know that for my head and my health and my heart I need an internet break….

And a Bipolar break

which I know sounds dumb because there are no Bipolar breaks but I know what I mean

Just trying to keep all my shit together ya know

I’ll miss you

I’ll think about you

I’ll be back

And now I have faith in you guys that you


or I’ll cry

If you’re new around here and like what you’re reading I really encourage you to browse around through the archives.

To be totally honest I have written about everything I set out to write about.

There is only one thing on my original list that I haven’t hit on and I’m kind of holding it in case I lose ALL inspiration one day and want to write but have nothing to say.

I’ll probably always have something to say

the point of saying that was not to say that I am anywhere near done with this blog

new inspiration arises

and things evolve

and I love this

what I meant by saying that is that this Blog is full of my original intent and all of the ideas I wanted to share and if you missed that…..well you get my point HA. Read ME.

And I’m going to write a bit on my other blog, Differently Ordered if I feel the itch….in a vacuum of sorts

figured going cold turkey on the writing thing might backfire on me

so if you miss my crazy you can come read me there.


See you all soon

(I wonder if I can actually do this!)



Peace Love and Keeping Your Shit Together



She Grows My Soul-Friend Series Part 4

for friends series intro click here


something other

something sweet

without her

there would be vast expanses of my self

that never had anyone to talk to

to understand

to see

to know

to be

This friendship is sparklingly crystally profoundly




journeying together

in a way

like no other

none other

She is spirit fire and dew

she is the purest truest….


Her words are like no others

her thoughts like no others

her comforting words and encouragements and wisdoms

like no others

and she drops them for me

like gentle raindrops

onto my life

just when I need them

magically always

right when I need them

in the way that I need them

as if she sees



my heart





and true

a friendship rooted in childhood

in the hearts of little girls

and grown




every conversation with her grows me

grows my soul a little bit more

she makes me think

she makes me feel my heart

know my heart

like no one else

if you met her you would see exactly what I mean

the energy from her is soothing

her eyes pure

her words soft

her life is her art

she is an artist of living beautifully



and I simply don’t know what I would do without her

but I would be less

she is my soul sister

she is a true gift

a jewel of a human being

and a star shine of a friend

no one else knows this side of me

this light

this striving

this swath of the depth of my soul

the love

is always

hard to believe a person like her

actually exists on this planet

that I actually have access to her voice and heart

and that she is like me

but not me

same silk

hard to believe she exists

but she does


she does

thank god

she does







Tell me what I Mean!

Did I write this?

Okay this shit drives me crazy

I often think of an idea for a post in the middle of other things and I jot a note down…

But a lot of the time when I go to this list I see a note like this one I just found….

“Isn’t what u think it is switch flicknotcrazy moods. More Complex”

And I’m like

Say WHA???

And I’m like DAMN

Because I lose a lot of good ideas this way

Well ideas anyway

She knows My Crazy Like the Back of Her Hand-Friend Series Part 3

For intro to friends series click here

If I had met this friend in highschool it is possible we would not have moved past acquaintanceship….

she was a no make up hard core jock

and I was the girl who reapplied her lipstick in between classes and felt righteously justified in skipping gym class if the teacher had the nerve to try to make me do anything more than walk the track and talk.

We probably could have enjoyed being chem lab partners.

Actually I am not sure about that as I would have just copied off of her. (In English she would have copied off of me. Jusayin.)

But it is possible I may have amused her.

I do amuse her

she loves this shit

That’s why she put up with me keeping her up all night with my ridiculous manic chatter, and my trying to grab her pens while she was writing and my jumping on her bed while she was trying to study and and and…..


I also think it is possible that she loves the crap out of my crap.

And the feeling is mutual.


Fortunately, we didn’t meet in highschool.

We met in college where things are very different…..

The unruled highly emotionally charged nature of the college dorm environment …

combined with my firing and misfiring brain…whipping around like a hurricane blowing away everyone’s boundaries…

combined with her shock and awe at the weirdness that was I…

combined with just a God Given Meant To Be quality

made us form something raw and deep and acute…quickly and irrevocably

We could not be more different…

She likes boring guy action type movies.

I’m a RomCom gal

I wear make up every day even when I don’t leave the house

On her wedding day when I asked her if she was going to do her makeup she nonchalantly said “mmm Maybe a little”

She bottles her feelings

I regularly set mine off like fireworks

She disappears when she is stressed out

I move INTO YOUR FACE when I am stressed out

She can do numbers like a Sudoku freakozoid

I have actually uttered the words “3/4 C plus ¾ C equal 1 and a half cups? I don’t believe you. That makes no sense.”

She folds her clothes

I pile mine

She always wanted to watch ER

I would get bored and pout and get drunk and annoy her shit when she tried to watch it. (This post is not putting me in my best light now is it)

She would have been a badass covered wagon driving log cabin building pioneering farmer’s wife.

I really would have been better off stayin’ back East in the city, with ringlets and corsettes sipping lemonade and courtin’ on front porches.


We basically only share a sense of humor and an incredible love for each other.

And something I else I don’t know how to describe……

But we have history honey wooo wheeeee

Man oh man do we have history

I don’t think you’re supposed to have this much history with a friend

But we do

some of the most weirdest personal shit that can happen to you…happened to us in each other’s sight lines

and then the usual ya know

She’s held my hair back, chased me around parking garages when I thought it would be funny to hide (oh you demon alcohol), stood by my bed while I cried for inexplicable reasons, fixed my disposal, come to rallies with me, hemmed my jeans, cleared the snow off my car, tied the ribbons on the programs for my wedding, found everything I ever lost for four years, tried to come up with responses to my crazy shit ramblings…..

Scraped me off the ceiling

Held my hand when I was low

And helped me pick my shit up over and over again

And the few times she took her eye off me and did her own stupid drunken shit were the times I made a fool out of myself and outdid myself with stupid manic drunken shit.

Which just shows to go ya how instrumental she was in the whole endeavor of keeping me alive and unharmed.

She had a front row seat to the Bipolar Circus which just happened to ALWAYS be playing IN HER TOWN

I won’t go through everything I have done for her even though it would make me look better here…

because it is hers…

but know that I know what it feels like to have her tears running down my arm…………………………………………………………………………………..

She doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve but she pours her heart into everything she does. Including her friendships.

And not just me.

Everyone loves her true valiant loyal heart.

Whether someone is getting a weird thing pierced or is dying in the hospital…

she is the one they ask for

She is deeply forgiving and level headed and calm…on point in any crisis…

and has dedicated her life to helping others….

AND she never once snapped at my Bitchy Little Mouth…..That qualifies for SAINThood RIGHT THERE

miracles happen


This is probably the most complicated relationship I have in my life. I don’t know exactly why it is. But it is.

There are just a lot of threads going a lot of different ways somehow. A lot of tensions and pressures placed on various joints. And every so once in awhile we have accidentally knocked down a supporting wall or two and have had to repair the whole thing with steel beams.

But we’re solid.


and then



On more than one occasion we have barely spoken for two years….

It isn’t fair or accurate to say it is all because of Bipolar but the last time had a lot to do with Bipolar… or started that way anyhow.


She sees my Bipolar more than anyone else.

Maybe it is because she has a unique vantage point given to her by our history together…

and perhaps also by the fact that in this particular relationship I quickly crashed and burned through all of the filters and boundaries that people are supposed to have between eachother…

and or maybe because in this particular relationship I so spectacularly lost any dignity I had by the end of our third year together.

Maybe it is because of her background in mental health

Maybe …. yeah I don’t know


but She is the one who did not seem to go through a period (however brief) of questioning it…the diagnosis

For her there was no initial “whhhaat?”

For her it was more like “ooohhhhhhhhh….it all makes sense now.”

And I think most of that was because she had so much experience with my crazy….

and Maybe partly because before the actual diagnosis I was saying to her… “I feel like I felt that time we went to the psychic…I think I am depressed again…I’m so paranoid can you believe how weird it is?”

And it was clear something was wrong

And had been wrong

And it sure seemed like Bipolar…

to both of us

I called her when I walked out of that first diagnostic psychiatrist visit… “I’m the real deal….”


And to be totally honest…in certain ways…she has borne the brunt of my Bipolar

Mostly because she sees mania before me

And a whole lot because she had to hear me

In pain


And resisting meds

And she loves me

And she was afraid

And she didn’t know what to do

And it hurt her

and it hurt me


It’s complicated

It’s sad

But what an incredible magic there is in a relationship where love has buried wounds.

And while this woman may have done a thing or two that hurt me deeply…

She has healed parts of my soul




My last big one..post diagnosis

a hysterical breakdown…freaking her shit out…

and then

She had  to watch my mania for months…

I am sad to imagine how disconnected she felt from me…

and then a clean slicing crash

I felt like I had been hit by a truck…I could barely open my eyes…the idea of getting up knocked me into bilious swirling terror…

not even lifting my head up I held my phone to my ear…

she said…

“I don’t know what to tell you when you are like this”

and her voice sounded tired

and her tone made it sound like she knew everything

everything I didn’t know…couldn’t see

WHat????? I thought. When I am “like this”?

and this is when I started to think I might be Bipolar after all


Whether she liked it or not I always reached for her in the depths of it…

she’d seen so much already….

once in a fit of Bipolar fury I said …. “I just feel like nobody knows how fucked up I am! I just want to do something SO CRAZY so that everyone will UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKED UP I AM!”

and she said quietly…bravely

“I know how fucked up you are”

and she does

and I found that so comforting

and you know what

she NOT ONLY thinks I’m totally fucked up….

she also thinks I’m all like all special and brilliant and all shit like that

(she’s all kinds of biased)


There are a lot of “toos” in this friendship

too much too fast too soon too long too painful too close too high too low too crazy too deep too sad too strong too too too many times….

but we’ve held on

and it has formed each of us in so many ways that we probably can’t even see them all

our lives have entwined around each other

and we have helped each other grow up


and I’m not a bitchy mouthed boundary crashing undiagnosed Bipolar hurricane anymore….

Now I am a bitchy mouthed boundary crashing DIAGNOSED Bipolar hurricane…

Ha. I set myself up for that. just kidding.  I’m really much better.

(she may beg to differ……kjhhfowljef;k.cn;ouepohlq.nc;oucpj;nclhc)

It may have all been too much for her at times

but I know she loves it me


I don’t know why it is complicated

I don’t know why things work the way they do

I often think that she and I have some complicated ages long past lives destiny thing going on.

There is something deep and raw and primordial about this relationship

Something weird, something different…..

Something unbreakable

no matter how hard






tries to break us










Don’t You Dare Call me SICK

I saw this on Twitter and I think it is awesome.  In many ways yes.



(anybody read me long enough to know where this is going to go right now?)

Just one thing…

Don’t call me SICK

I just simply do not identify with the word at all.

It doesn’t feel right to me.

It doesn’t feel like me.

It is not completely untrue

I mean I am the one who has repeatedly said that depression is like the flu in the brain

And I am the one who tells people to treat me “like I’m sick” when I am super depressed.

So it isn’t that it NEVER feels right.

Yeah sure…in the depths of depression I feel ill…I feel sick

and I can see that in the heights of mania one may also say the brain is “ill” “sick”

but even with the daily Bipolar shit that I live with….

I don’t want to be called SICK on the daily

I can’t STAND the term Mentally Ill

and I throw up in my mouth a little bit every time I have to use it because there isn’t another good word for the vast group of us beyond Bipolar who live with this shit.

Because I don’t feel SICK on the daily


Is it easy


Do I have to fight for balance and wellness all the time


Do I struggle against my own brain?


but do I look in the mirror and see a “sick” person?


absolutely not.

I am going to maintain this position that I keep stating

Our brains are DIFFERENT

not sick

But these difference cause problems in certain times and places and conglomering loops of crap

My brain is different

My brain has a condition

My brain may even be “disordered”

But My brain is not sick

I’m gonna go crazy here and say that in some ways I think my brain is fucking awesome

and I love it

I’m not like other people

I think differently

see differently

my relationship with music

and words

and colors

and light

and emotions

and love

and beauty

is not like anyone else’s I know

I don’t look at life like anyone else I know

And that doesn’t mean that I am okay with being bludgeoned by Bipolar into hating myself and hurting myself and wanting the end


sure you can call THAT sick

but I’m not willing to be called sick

call ME different

because whatever it is that is “wrong” with me…

whatever mechanisms go awry and wreak their havoc..

may also be the things that flip around and wreak their magic

and make me Me

and maybe this makes no sense

maybe it isn’t fair

maybe I’m just bristling about the language

maybe I’m in denial and unhappy to be “mentally ill”

maybe I just don’t like the reality that…

I have a sick brain

Maybe I shouldn’t be saying all of this

But I am going to

Because I don’t want that word attached to me or my brain

I’m not sick

I’m not ill

I am neurologically DIFFERENT

it makes me awesome

and it fucks me over

and gives me episodes of true “illness”

But don’t call me ill

I don’t feel mentally ill

I do feel like my brain is different

We need to start embracing neurodiversity

and stop hammering this ill crap

although I will also admit that I think it is necessary in order to get a certain point across to certain normies and certain parts of society

but at the same time I’m going to keep saying it

Don’t call me ill

and don’t you dare call my amazing miraculous fragile but badass brain



I don’t even love the term Bipolar Disorder

well obviously

it would be a weird thing to “love”

my new idea for a term that works better is….

Manic Depressive Condition


as in I have MDC

It makes a lot more sense than stupid Bipolar (although it sounds less sexy)

as if there were these poles and this two nonsense

but yeah manic…mania…yeah I get that.  Those are actually some of my favorite words for what we it means…




i’m manic

it feels right to me

sounds right


not as much

not so much

it may be different if society as a whole didn’t use “depressed” to apply to every situation under the sun…”He didn’t call me back..I’m so depressed.”… “My dog died..I’m so depressed.”… “Starbucks is out of soy milk..I’m so depressed”…

and I find “condition” to be a lot LESS annoying

a lot less um what’s the word I’m looking for….???

Oh I don’t know fuck it

those illness and defective disordery type words make me feel icky



um I guess…SICKLY

and I’m not that

Not at all

so take that sickness language


save it for the depression blow outs

and appreciate a little neurodiversity

because that is what we are



different wiring in the brain that sometimes flip flops itself into making me “sick”

but That kind of language may help other people have more compassion for us

but it disempowers us

because the image of sick people

is not true to what we are

we know that

we should know that

My brain isn’t sick

it is my brain

and I love it

so there






Dear Hypomanic Wife

I can’t stop thinking about this post.

Dialogue from the Depths

Dear Hypomanic Lee,
I’m not afraid of you
And you don’t need to be afraid of me.
There are a few things I’d like you to hear
Particularly that you have nothing to fear.

Although I wanted to try this challenge of basic rhyme,
I really ought to pause because it’s taking a lot more time.
But maybe in your reply,
You might like to give it a try.
It’s clear how creative and talented you are,
You will always be MY star!
Thank you for doing the laundry and helping kids every morn’,
My appreciation is never ending, even though expressing it isn’t always the norm (anagram of morn’) 😉

I was never good at rhyme. You definitely are. When we chatted the last few days, you seem scared to admit that you might be in “fast fwd” – I get it.  You appeared worried that I…

View original post 247 more words