Bipolar 1 - Tumblr Posts

When have I ever been first?

A question for the ages.

As a tot in my mothers arms,

I was still only second 

To the plants she kept on the sill,

And as I grew I became second

To various things more;

To the state of the house,

To income and money,

To my older, healthier sister,

To my father and his "quirks".

No room to call my own,

No privacy to speak of,

No emotions allowed past curfew.

I thought that maybe,

When I'm out,

It'll be over,

But it only gets worse.

My health is secondary 

To various whims,

My sleep is secondary

To deafening hymns,

My suffering is secondary

To what's displayed on the screen,

And no emotions allowed past curfew.

Sure, I am primary for myself.

This would be nice, if not for

How Ill I am,

And the fact that i cannot

Prioritize myself, since i cannot 

Do everything myself,

And so I'm dependent 

On being the top priority

Of external persons

Who never prioritized me once.

Of those who walk past me,

Often looking through.

The pain never ceases.

They say my condition is characterized

By infinite ups and downs,

But I have been going downhill

Forever more;

For when the depression hits I am static,

Drowned by my own despair,

Incapable of resisting the current

That violently pulls me lower and lower,

And when the mania hits

I am trapped in quicksand,

Uncontrollably thrashing and flailing

As I am pulled under.

What I never get to do is breathe -

Feel the fresh air fill my lungs -

I am suffocating just by existing at all,

And always they tell me

That life will turn around,

And yet it's been almost 30 years

With no change in direction.

Staying alive is getting harder by the day.

Having the faith that life is worth living

Is impossible

For the likes of me.

For if the days fail to feel brighter,

And the abyss seems endless

And devoid of an exit,

What could possibly be the point?

I eat my food that tastes like garbage,

I wash my skin, which feels like shit.

An endless cycle and yet somehow,

I am lower every day.

I listen to my music that no longer sounds good.

I watch the TV series just to have some noise.

But no amount of pretending will normalize me -

No amount of pretending will make me alive.

No amount of pretending will give life any flavour...

None,

At all.

Saaaaaaame.

I hate being self-aware with no self-control.

As a bipolar, I never felt so relatable to Monica from Shameless as I do right now.

I'm a memory whore. Fuk yes expect me to record and document everything I can.

'Which version of you is here right now?' He says.

'Uhh i'm not sure....'

Too many to tell sometimes 🙇‍♀️

Manic fixation of the day: punching everything

Being bipolar be like *triggers manic episode* *accused of faking* *surfeit of withdrawal symptoms when skipping meds* *feeling humiliated in the aftermath of all the stupid shit you’ve done in public* *sleeping for 15+ hours straight when depressed* *threats from everyone to be hospitalized*

In my tragic heart, there’s nothing more disgusting than this depression

All you people know is how to hurt me in irreparable ways

IF THIS DOESN’T ACCURATELY CAPTURE THE EUPHORIC PARTS OF MANIA I DON’T KNOW WHAT DOES

Wow being manic during quarantine is sure something else

Manic thoughts fo tonight:

-The world is mine and I can do whatever I want

-I hate you guys you just ruin my fun by getting all worried

-I SWEAR the trees are speaking to me amidst this midnight walk

-Why is everyone trying to kill me

-I’m so under-desired for a person who’s completely superior

-I’m going to break the world record for smartest person alive, just let me get my textbooks

-I’m going to spend my money on crack, clothes, and coffee

-My manic anthem playlist is on full fuckinf blast and I don’t want to turn it down

-My heartbeat is rocking me back and forth very very notably which is entertaining

-Speaking of entertainment OH MY GOD THINGS ARE FUNNY

-Why are all my friends asleep :( FAKE* friends

-I want to s/h because it is fun and so damn enlivening :-)))))

*manic episode* yep this is what caffeine does to a mf

Any tumblr posts about depression or something sad are a fucking joke to me when I’m manic. It makes me feel like an asshole but I mean no offense in that thought, I just don’t have the time to mope, I have to get things done

I don’t know if this is Bipolar Culture or not, but I hate when I get so hyper and have the instinct of calling it mania or the start of an episode, and then see it was just false alarm. A manic scare™

I am so manic that I can’t even make it relatable

Having a life-threatening mental illness and med non-compliance or complacency with taking meds has got to be one of the top worst combinations ever wtf

An episode of mania almost always always always starts out so euphorically, makes you feel like you’re on the perfect drug, makes your confidence and motivation sky rocket and has you romanticizing all the fun it baits you with. It feels so amazing, you feel like nothing can hurt you or get to you.

Then the irritability comes, genuine rage, such an uncomfortable and overwhelming increase in libido, dangerous impulses, social behavior to be humiliated from by the time you crash, severe sleep deprivation that disorients the fuck out of you the longer you go without it, without even feeling tired at all. But feeling completely out of control. And if it escalates, Lord help you. Hallucinations, bad paranoia, black outs, substance abuse (or relapse if you happen to be recovering), delusions, everything that could get you into a psych ward. It isn’t fun at the end and any pleasure you feel is completely illusionary.

The worst part is I still normally never want it to stop. Because the depression after, which gets so ugly and terrible the longer, more intense the mania is, is something I’m not looking forward to at all. That, and mania can really sometimes convince you that you love it. I’m not wanting to go there though, because I have a lot to lose. Even if I don’t lose anything, I’m tired of this cycle and just can’t afford to desire it anymore. So I’m managing where I can, but wow it’s just scary to watch it take you higher and higher into it, and further and further away from yourself.

This is precisely why I despise any sort of stigma toward bipolar disorder. It’s so misunderstood, misquoted, and mistreated. I just really want and need some help. My hands are so sweaty and shaky, my heart and my mind are racing, I can’t stop talking, I can’t eat. I can’t focus, I can only fixate. And it’s just so overwhelming already.