I am a person before I am bipolar

Learning to love myself has been a roller coaster.
It’s like looking up at the night sky,
Staring into the darkness but seeing the beautiful glow of the stars radiating across the nights sky.
Like the darkness of the water but seeing the reflection of the beautiful sunset.
Like the tides pulling in and pushing away at the sand.
And I have come to learn that,
Loving my darkness is part of loving me.
For I am bipolar.
If you had asked me what I knew about it 3 years ago I would have said it means that a person goes from being really happy to really sad at sometimes or,
if I would be honest I would have said I hadn't a clue about it.

But truthfully being Bipolar means to touch heaven and hell.
Last year began with me being in a severe depression,
I felt completely alienated from everyone and felt severely out of place in this world, as if my birth was some sort of horrible mistake.

My true fantasy is that one day,
I’m going to come home and leave bipolar at the door,
Scatter it along with muddy boots and raincoats and winter mittens,
I have no use for,
That I’m going to take it off and enter my house unencumbered.

There have been so many days I day dream that I’m going to go to bed at night,
Without measuring my sleep.
Wondering if it’s an indication of mania or depression,
Or if it’s simple stress.

My wish is that this illness that I must lug around like a suitcase made of brick,
Might lighten in load or unpack itself once in a while.

I wish that this suitcase I carry with me did not make people think I’m crazy.
Because really my bipolar is just a part of my lives story, it does not define who I am or where I am going.

One laid out in the lines of swinging, flying and then falling.
My story is written in the narrow margins between sanity and hope.
My life’s manuscript is forever alternating.
Because at times I’m being a-buzzed with electricity and then short circuiting my battery in moments notice not being able to move.

Sometimes it’s not knowing what version of me I’m going to wake up to in the morning and having to fake a smile and cling to hope that it’s just today and tomorrow might be better.

My bipolar prayer is that when energy, plus impulsiveness, plus danger is no longer
A concept I understand, collaborate,
Those around me know this is not who I am.

My mood is a high-flyer, a free-faller, and an everywhere in between.
But that is NOT my personality or who I am.
I am open minded, a free thinker, a poet, I am compassionate, I am a giver, I pour love and kindness into everyone and I’m a survivor.
My story is much broader than the confines of bipolar.
I am sometimes aflame or underwater,
But I weather it all and stay standing tall.
Because I am a person before I am bipolar.

on my wrist and thighs, you’ll find the marks that I made.
When I was so low and that I cut with a blade.
To punish my body for being a mess,
Though here is my testament, I must confess.
That seeing these scars left on my arms and legs,
Makes me realize I was in a place of literally no rest.

When I sit back and look at the scars I’ve made,
I feel guilty inside for leaving them and tainting yet another part of my body.
But when I see them, I do remember that it was all from A time that I was so broken.

I used to hate seeing these scars,
But these scars help me see,
That I survived so much trauma and now I am free.
They have helped me see and remind me that I stood up despite the ache.
That I have FINALLY won the battle of good versus bad.
That I am still alive.
the marks on my arms and legs will forever stay,
But they will be a constant reminder of my survival.
That I am a person, before I am bipolar.