I reach out to the light and the dark of you
prepared for any combination of both
you bring me flowers and dirt
screaming and whispering your devotion to me
I lap at the compliments
drawing strength from anything you care to leave for me
bones and seeds
from your past planting the future
words cry out I will end you so you can start anew
in the corner I lay spent as the light from the dawn creeps in
finding a beaten pulp eager for the switch again
it brings feeling where it has not been for endless time
I sway to your calling hoping you will raise your hand to me
and bring me home with you, where I truly belong
And I told her what it was like,
To have bipolar
And she held my hand and she cried
As I analyze the events leading up to the break, I come to understand, more and more, why my big implosion pushed so many people away. There was a lot of lying going on, mostly by me. I was having a manic episode that lasted quite some time. I alienated a lot of people that used to be my friends. I was doing what I thought I needed to do to stay afloat. Everything I was doing was lighting little fuses which would inevitably combine into one gigantic one. Then there was the break and I imploded on myself, the manic episode turned into a Psychotic Break. Everyone else saw that they had something in common, my lies, and started comparing notes. When they did that they discovered that I was different to everyone, that no one knew who I really was. That was when they all moved away. It was my doing. It was my disease’s doing. I really had no control over it. I’m not using this as an excuse, I’m simply stating a fact. This disease I have, Bipolar Disorder (BPD), played a large role in the loss of friends and career. Any forgiveness I ask for or give, in that part of my life, must be seen in that light. But, I am ultimately responsible for my actions.
I saw and heard something on TV sometime over the past few days that really pissed me off. I wish I could identify the program. In any case, one character, probably one in a position of power said “You are Bipolar, which means you have manic episodes where you are really excited and destructive without any care for the damage you cause. You’re out of control. It also means you have times with deep depression and are prone to attempt suicide. If you weren’t Bipolar, these things wouldn’t be happening to you.”
Now, I don’t have a big argument against how the character explained Bipolar, though it seems a bit broad. It certainly does not apply to everyone. Everybody’s experience with Bipolar is different. My big problem is with the last line. I have only had Bipolar for a little over a year. At least that’s what my medical records say. Evidence shows that I have had Bipolar for at least 15 years. Logic tells me that even with diagnoses of Depression, Major Depression with Psychotic Features and Psychotic Depression, I still had Bipolar. It doesn’t take a diagnosis to tell you that you have something. It didn’t take a diagnosis to tell me I had cancer to give me cancer. I would have had it whether the doctor had told me I had it or not. What the diagnosis does is give the doctor steps to take in treatment. Then you have to work with your doctor to come up with the treatment that is right for you. It may take weeks, months, or years to get the treatment right. Even then it might not be exactly right. Bipolar Disorder is a moving target. Something that has worked for a long time might, all of a sudden, stop working. Then it is back to square one. Don’t be afraid to tell your doctor exactly what you’re experiencing, that is the only way they’ll be able to respond to your needs. You are your own best advocate. It takes great courage to stand up for yourself. Do it, and you’ll be better for it.
The Psychotic Break was like a nuclear bomb going off inside my skull. For a while it felt like it had killed everything. I couldn’t trust my senses, I still see things that aren’t there and every once in a while I hear phantom music and voices, but I have reconciled those now. I had problems with things as familiar as an ATM machine. I believe that ECT has gone a long way towards rebuilding the fractured synapses. This whole experience has shown me how fragile we are as a species. If something that was contained inside my body damaged me like this, I don’t want to think about what effects something more powerful would have had. I still have issues with conversations, I find that I can’t come up with a word in the appropriate place, or even finish sentences. I have that problem when I’m writing as well. It can take me a couple of hours to complete a few paragraphs. I mistype, as if I’m dyslexic on the keyboard. I also have problems reading aloud. I read too fast and skip words or I misread words, adding words that are out of context. The thing is, I never used to be this way. But this way is years better than I was in the days, weeks and months after the break. So, I have come a long way since then and the way I feel about it, I still have a long way to go.
If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the color of the evening sun
Tomorrow’s rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime’s argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
This past week “Going Sideways” passed the 100 follower mark. I am very excited about this. When I started this blog I wasn’t sure anyone would even read it let alone “Like” it or “Follow” it. For me, it means that I have been welcomed into the blogging community, and for that I am very thankful. As someone with Bipolar, any type of human interaction is important to me and to see that someone from The Russian Federation or Australia or UAE read and liked what I was saying makes what I am doing here all that more important. Thank you all for reading, commenting and following. It means more to me than you will ever know.
You are not real to me. I know this because when I point my gun at you there isn’t a twitch or flinch or any other sign that that I’m pointing my gun at you. So I put it down, there’s no reason to threaten you if you are not going to feel threatened. Why do you continue to stand there like that? Are you trying to intimidate me? Don’t you remember? I’m the one with the gun. Shit, no, the gun means nothing to you because you are not real. It means something to me though, as long as I have it, I am safe. I will be able to hold off any attack. Even from you. Even though you are not real. What I really need to watch for are the pigs
If you didn’t care what happened to me,
And I didn’t care for you
We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain
Occasionally glancing up through the rain
Wondering which of the buggers to blame
And watching for pigs on the wing.
Those pigs a very dangerous, they’re omnivores and will eat anything, even bodies that are left behind. So be careful with me. I’m the one with the gun. Stop wagging your finger at me, I know that you don’t care. But your lack of concern makes no difference to me. You’ve been here for a very long time and you have done nothing but stand there. You have not threatened me in any way. I believe that you are nothing more than a figment of my psychoses. You do not exist, the pigs do not exist, this entire room is only a construction in my mind. That means that nothing is here, including this gun… including me.
Where and when and why do I exist. Nothing is real so nothing matters. Nothing is not real so everything matters. Everything is real and everything exists. It is all too full. There is no room to move. I am suffocating. I have to get out of here. I have to go nowhere, where everything is. That’s where you’ll be. At least I’ll get to see an unfamiliar face. It will be such a comfort.