Once upon a time, a discovery was made.
“Not give up.”
This marriage counselor was proof that I tried.
At our 1st and final session my mental health came up. I told her about the rollercoaster I’d been on for a while. She told me to get a psychiatric evaluation.
Diagnosis:
Do not fuck with me.
Translation: Bipolar.
Have I always been bipolar or did I develop it over time? Was it genetics, environmental or just beyond my comprehension…
Who knows.
All I know is that for a really long time, my life has been a rollercoaster; a sneaky lil’ combo of loud highs and desperate lows. Actually no; they’re both desperate.
Like that one time I shopped online almost every night for a few months. I can’t even tell you what I bought. It took years and a miracle to pay it off.
Sometimes it looks like hyper-sexuality.
I know that sounds amusing and popcorn-worthy but…imagine there’s an itch on your body that won’t let you concentrate and you have to scratch it. It does't care that you're working.
Raise your hand if you normally relieve an itch by immediately scratching…
✋
Yup, I see your hand.
Thank you for participating.
Anyway, the point is, I have to scratch.
Let’s say I do.
15 minutes later if not sooner, the feeling’s back and just as loud. It’s an eye-squinting, desperate feeling. Desperation, not fun. There's a difference.
There are things I’ve done that I’m not proud of; dare I say, regret.
I’m explosive, impulsive, compulsive…all the 'sives.'
Underneath all the sives there’s a layer of shame. Then there are the lows.
Like My December.
It was this month in particular I'll never forget. I didn't know I was bipolar yet. I couldn’t stop crying and lived in bed. Working remotely was a blessing because I could still get shit done. It was comical, actually.
I’d have my breakdowns, eventually come back down, and keep working because my bills don’t give a fuck about how I feel.
Sometimes it feels like my emotions are separate from me–and the observer–the logical part of me, just waits for it to pass.
I like to imagine how it would have played out in an office, ya know?
Everyone IM’ing about it, no one knows what to do...shit's awkward AF. Janice, the office Manager trying to get approval from management on that $10 We’re Here for You Starbucks gift card. Robert in Sales secretly glad this happened because he’s bored as fuck. Betty, the company leader sitting in her office taking copious notes to report this to HR because yes, things happen but this is really disrupting everyone's productivity and it can't happen again. My teammates texting: are you ok?
Good times.
Then there are the in-betweens; when everything’s “normal.”
Everything's peachy for the most part; until I’m triggered.
A car honks at me at an intersection and next thing you know, there’s rage in my veins and I’m shaking. It takes effort not to put the car on park and walk over to who knows who, to initiate who knows what. Mind you, I’m 5’3”, have never been in a fight and have ZERO reason to believe I can get myself out of whatever pickle my rage gets me into.
Right after being diagnosed my Psychiatrist prescribed Lithium. # 1 fan. It lowered the volume on my emotions SIGNIFICANTLY. I still have my moments, but they’re less frequent and less intense. There’s a bigger gap between the emotion and my response. It’s in this gap where I get the chance to be an A+ emotionally intelligent responder.
Ok fine, more like B+.
Emphasis on the +; not excellent, but totally killin’ it at being average. Ya know?
When things are good they’re great.
When they’re bad they’re bad.
On the bipolar spectrum, I’d say I'm on the milder side. My condition is largely under control and for the most part I play “normal” well. I haven’t gotten in legal trouble nor have I given in to my desire to break someone’s face.
However, when someone lacks integrity…
A person who is disingenuous at the expense of me or my people…
Someone who is being cruel or abusing their power at the expense of others…it’s my greatest trigger and area for growth as a person.
Fuck with me...
Fuck with my people...
That's my moment to shine. To make better choices despite what I’m capable of. Or, it can be a painful lesson. I get to choose. The trigger is mine to handle. Surely the above stems from past experience(s) where I once felt powerless; betrayed or let down by the authority figures around me, leaving me to feel like it's my job to restore, defend, bring the truth to light, ESPECIALLY if someone in a position of power is the wrongdoer. Nothing repulses me more than a person in a position of power lacking integrity or being unkind.
All that said, bipolar amplifies what's already there for me. That, combined with my triggers...good intentions can get lost underneath that.
But ya know what?
I (try to) own my shit.
I (try to) clean up my mess.
Oh and, sometimes I write about it too. 😇
Lithium isn’t a magic trick. It's a helpful gap.
Obviously I still want that cunt to die, right? But if that cunt doesn’t die, I’ll be okay. 🏆
- KARLA
