Tuesday, May 14, 2013
First Post, Step 100
This is my first blog which is completely new territory for me. I have a very bad habit of keeping everything inside, which is strange because I live my life like an open book. It's part of the disorder. Every part of my life is a product of what's wrong with me. There are no "normal" days anymore. As awful and depressing it sounds it's a good thing. It's another step towards managing my life, the fact I can recognize, acknowledge, and classify what's wrong. That's been the hardest part- recognizing my thoughts and behavior are being controlled by this parasite. When you're crazy you don't know any better. I've thought this way my whole life, I have nothing to compare it to. Some animals have receptors in their pupils that can pick up different colors that humans can't see. Try to imagine a color you've never seen before. It's impossible. We can understand the concept of other colors existing but we don't have the ability to see or possibly fathom what they look like. That's what it's been for me. I can't imagine what an appropriate human response is. I have no reference. I can watch other people and how they deal with life but I can't crawl inside their head to figure out what chemicals were released and compare it to my malfunctioning brain juices.
Crazy people don't generally know they're crazy. I knew I was crazy but that's all the information I had. There was no moment where I thought something was wrong with how I reacted to everyday situations. I react appropriately in a logical sense- something that would make anyone mad makes me mad too, something that makes someone sad makes me sad as well. I have appropriate responses but where there's a sign that something is wrong is the level of angry, sad, or even happy that my mind escalates to. Something that would make someone sad can cause me to be depressed and completely incapable of functioning for days, weeks, or months. Another situation where it's appropriate to get angry will set me off into a screaming rage, a violent outburst, and I can hold onto anger for years if my mind wants to.
None of it is fun. None of it is my fault. All of it I take responsibility for.
It's been a heavy burden to always accept responsibility for situations I have no idea why I'm in or how I got there. It's my actions, it's my body, it's my reality, but it didn't feel like anything was truly mine. I know right from wrong and struggled to keep myself under control. I always thought it was a matter of self control. I didn't know what I was doing or how I was reacting was wrong. I just knew where I ended up wasn't where I wanted to be. The end results were wrong and the only common factor was me.
I'm 30 years old and I just started figuring out that something is wrong with me. I am severely bipolar and I have been whole life. Not just that but I have the worst form of bipolar- rapid cycling. It's when you have at least 4 episodes of mania or depression a year. I have them at least once a month, some times weekly- I can even go through a couple a day. I got the shit end of this whole thing.
The only saving grace I have is that I know something is wrong and I want to fix it. I'm willing to accept that everything I do or think may be wrong on one level or another. I want and need to become a functioning person. I don't want to feel sorry for myself or use this disorder as an excuse. There is no cure for bipolar, there is only the possibility of managing it. I have to reorganize my entire life if I am going to have any possibility of success.
I am literally set up for failure. At a scientific chemical level I am programmed to fail. I'm a flaw in natures design with a hair pin trigger self destruct button.
I will not fail. I refuse to buckle and accept this genetic shit that life took on me. The healthy person inside of me has too much to offer.
Thank you for reading.