Depths

It hurts when you think you’re starting to be okay, and then the issues that caused the problem to begin with just springs up on you. It’s like, you’ve realized it, you’ve accepted it, and then wham. It’s a tidal wave that just washes over you and resonates in your brain. Strikes you down really hard really fast and you’re suddenly struggling all over again. You don’t want to feel it or think that way but sometimes it’s just totally out of control and unpredictable.

I can feel the sudden separation, it’s like being pulled backwards off your feet from where I’m standing. Initial response: drop what I’m holding, find someplace dark, huddle in the corner, stay there. No plan for what to do, just stay there. Just retreat. After it’s over, it’s not really over. I find myself stuck somewhere between acceptance and torment. Although it’s not that simple. The acceptance would be that the universe is proceeding as it should for everyone and that I should know my place, the torment comes from also accepting that the universe has other plans and I just have to wait. But also accepting other things that I won’t get into, the universe is simply my way of rationalizing it.

I don’t know how to control my brain when it’s manic. I think about possibilities, fantasies, nightmares, best case scenarios, worst case scenarios and everything in between. I feel so alone. It feels like my insecurities and my delusions make it impossible to talk to anyone because of their involvement in my mania. It’s not their fault. They’re just themselves being themselves, doing what makes them happy and my pitiful jealousies and frustrations at my life are not their problem. This also makes it hard to talk to people about what’s going on with me when they realize I’m not myself.

I get so far gone that my thoughts are not my own and I begin to view the people I love and care about with such anger and indifference. Because in the simplest terms. I’m jealous. I’m jealous that life gave them the ability to talk to people, to form deep bonds, to be infatuating, to be desired, to be confident, to be wanted. It feels like I’m constantly struggling for this and with everyone else it’s so easy and so common that they don’t even have to try. This is more than likely the delusional ramblings of an emotionally compromised and deeply frustrated bipolar nutjob, but that is how it has felt for years. And no experience of therapy, meds, support, sex, drugs, or booze has ever been able to make that change. No matter how hard I try I’m shackled by this weight that sometimes gets easy to carry but is ultimately slowing me down and even making me recede.