1 / 18 / 2019

When I try to describe what it means for me to be bi-polar, I always find myself at a loss for words,.

The closest answer that I felt was coherent was when I spoke to my manager about when I spiral into mania. Once in awhile, you find a pair of headphones that you happen to love. Over time, the wire that holds the headphones together begins to unravel from use, and the music periodically cuts in and out depending on the pressure placed on it.

It happens so fast that I find it hyper disorienting  and difficult to ascertain what is happening, but others notice fairly quick how extremely impulsive, irrational,  irritable, uncharacteristically self-absorbed, and malicious I become. I would imagine that it’s hard not to see it, because I’m often asked if I’m okay. I’m fine. That’s what I say. That’s what I tell others as I cut in and out just like an old pair of headphones. It happens rapidly. The medication keeps it at bay–stops it from becoming worse than it could of been but it’s damaging when I start to lash out uncontrollably towards those I love, and it’s damaging to myself when I do it.

There’s so much shame trying to comprehend what I did, and sometimes, it takes days or weeks to figure it out because there’s moments when my thoughts become garbled or when I simply stop feeling and understanding my actions.

Truthfully, I hate talking about it because it feels like deterioration.

Over the last two years, I’ve struggle to push forward but find myself worse off despite it. There’s a sense of futility in my actions. I feel it every day. I wrestle with the overwhelming sensation that everything I’ve done thus far has been in vain, and as much as I try, I can’t get a grip on it.  It begins to feel like all of my efforts have been in vain in vain, and sometimes I find it so upsetting that I begin to fall into despair and become emotionally overwhelmed.

It’s strange looking at how long I’ve been this way but only recently putting labels.