This isn’t going to go away is it?
Last night, I fell asleep on top of a pile of clean laundry not because I’m lazy (the usual reason) but because I’d lost control again.
I felt defeated at myself and I breathed a sigh of reality – this shit is just not going to go away.
I am bipolar. And I am ashamed.
What a hypocrite I’ve become. I flood my timeline with advocacy for mental health awareness. It’s my hidden passion yet I rarely ever admit why except to say it’s an issue we need to recognize.
It’s an issue that almost took my life.
Being bipolar is a joke isn’t it? When people are moody we joke and say they are bipolar.
I believe I’ve even been called that on my twitter timeline for some of my rants and I remember recoiling and thinking “if you only knew.” Although my rants are never episodes. I’m just loud for no reason, even in print.
I prefer to be manic. Do you know how productive you can be in uncontrollable energy? It’s incredible until it’s not. It’s not as much when you can’t sleep for days on end or you lash out at people who simply say hello. It’s not as much fun when you can’t drive because you can’t control the outburst and are afraid you’ll swerve and crash.