My bipolar is my greatest enemy and my oldest friend, but what exactly is it?

While browsing through my stuffed inbox, I found an email from Psych Central, which eventually, after much link-clicking, led me to this page:


I’ve discussed with my psychiatrist how crazy and alone I feel before, and I can’t remember what she told me I have.  According to this page, I have something somewhere between ‘Bipolar 1 Group 5’ and Bipolar Depression.

How exactly do I feel?

Well, it may start with a giggle but turn into a choked sob.  I may laugh hysterically, blowing something that may not even be funny to other people far out of proportion.  (It’s difficult to not laugh and cry simultaneously constantly while living in Oklahoma.)

I find other people depressingly hilarious.  They’re so sad, but they’re so sure.  (Political rant withheld.)

I prefer the inappropriate and vulgar to the pristine.

Right now I am: troubled, excited, anxious, depressed, feeling like I’m worthless but also destined to be famous, feeling useless, pent-up energy coated in exhaustion.  I could fall asleep at any moment, but I’m in pain, so never mind, I can’t.

I’m generally quite paranoid about other people, especially those with whom I must share this state.  I’m terrified of every kind of person, except the kind that is just like me – presumably the scariest of all!  I occasionally entertain thoughts of killing.  I do not enjoy this thoughts, per se, but they cross my mind nonetheless.  I’m terrified of death.  I was convinced that my golden birthday, the 16th, would be my last.  When I woke up after several handfuls of pills were consumed the night before, I realized something had either gone terribly wrong or wonderfully right, or maybe it’s the other way around.  That was not the last time I tried.  I imagine falling – from grace, from a cliff, or into an empty pool.  Since then, I’ve become convinced that the next birthday will be my last, and I’m amazed that I’ve made it so far.

I often toy with the idea of my own mortality.  I occasionally become convinced that I have multiple sclerosis.  My aunt has it, my great uncle died from it, and I’ve experienced almost every recorded symptom of it.  But hey, maybe I’m just crazy.

I was given medication for ADHD, but I had to be prescribed an anti-anxiety medication in addition to it, to level me off.  Now I’m still stuck with Klonnie, while the amphetamines are gone.

I can’t hold a thought, form a sentence, without cringing, grinding my teeth…

My dark thoughts race.

My eyes feel both gluey and unglued.  I have a ton of ‘floaters’ and ‘sparkles’ that remain unexplained.

I’m unbalanced, both when I stand and when I think.

I want to create.  I want to embrace the elusive mania, [a red dragon], but can’t summon a signal.

I don’t even have the patience or attention span to play my favorite video games anymore.

I imagine my hair fanned out, in flames.  I imagine myself at 23, ‘woe is me’, but I’m just not combustible any more.

In person I am quiet, shy, withdrawn, fearful, timid, tearful, when I really just want to scream “FUCK” and run around stealing shit and kicking people.  Oh, those were the days.

Oh, I still get upset in public.  I still fill up on rage, I just seem stuck, filled, unable to release it, unable to summon the dragon, breathe flames and “burninate the countryside”.

I remember things that seem to have far too much significance to me, while forgetting to complete simple, yet important, tasks.

I’ve applied for disability, but unless The Cell’s technology comes to fruition, no one else will ever know what it’s like in here.

I feel so fucking stupid.

Thanks for reading, if you do.


Meeting New People

I find meeting new people to be exceptionally challenging.
I consider myself psychologically disabled, and there are many stigmas associated with mental illness.
I’m afraid of most people.
When I find someone I may have something in common with, I become fearful that I will fuck it up prior to anything actually happening. This holds me back in many ways. It’s only amplified when I find someone I know I have nothing in common with (re: most people in this state).

I found a girl/lady on Facebook through a Nerdy Girls group, with whom I may have something in common.  Her husband may or may not be transgendered.  (How dare you WordPress for telling me that is spelled incorrectly!  [But then again, it also considers its own name to be misspelled.])

I lived a wild life, chasing a trans heart breaker, for about three years.  We met online while I was in college at a progressive girls-only school.  It was fated from the start.  He made fun of me and I fell in love.  He was LJ friends with my fat slob of a roommate, a girl I still resent, as she stole several things from me and had nasty messy sex on my bed.  Anyway, I fell for him, and I guess I’ll never really know how he felt about me, because I’m forbidden to talk to him, for a good reason.

I always knew I was different in some way pertaining to my sexuality – I just didn’t have a label at the time: pansexual, or queer, until I went to that college and joined a ‘queer’ group, Out There.

Despite my being in a monogamous and heterosexual relationship right now, I still feel this is an important part of who I am.   My attraction to ‘other’ is unavoidable, and it’s not even sexual, it’s just an “ahh, someone else who understands what this is like”.  I know that I will never personally feel the amount of persecution that many other people feel, but I am an ally, through and through, and want to wear that proudly but am afraid to do so.  Having been in a long-term relationship with someone who struggled intensely with gender issues and societal constructs, I feel a definite sense of kinship with those who are part of a larger community with which I cannot retain membership at this time.  I feel like an outcast in both worlds: I’m not gay and I’m not straight.  I’m in a hetero relationship with a man who, while very loving and understanding, whose opinion I have influenced greatly regarding equality, will never understand how I feel on this, and will generally feel a bit of shame, because he thinks he can never be what I look for in a person.  Just because he is biologically one thing doesn’t mean that what he is as a whole isn’t good enough for me: it certainly is.

And here I have lost my original train of thought, as usual.

Well, I WANT to meet people like me, I’m just too frightened to put myself out there.  Frightened on several different levels.  I don’t want to make my husband feel alienated.  I don’t want to seem as though I am flirting with anyone.  I just want friends who understand me.

I love my friends, but most of them don’t understand me very much at all.

With one of my female friends I have a very distant relationship, despite us living geographically near each other, because we have very different lives and histories, and I’m always afraid of showing my hand.

And so, here I am, alone, at home, alone… in general I am quite tortured.  I do most of the torturing, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

Intro to a Girl on Fire

I am a bipolar bitch.  I am creative.  I am many things, but most of all this: tentative.

I am sometimes so bipolar that I do not actually have any idea who or what I am.

I used to be a writer… then somehow my brain got scrambled even more than it already was.

Now I’m a loser.

How can one be both full and sucked out?

I feel full of ideas… sometimes… full of potential… maybe

but then

I also feel like I have nothing left, like I gave of myself to too many things, and now I lie still, somewhere between the stages of recuperation and expiration.


I am fucked up, yes.  But I am also – unable to follow a single train of thought through to completion.

I don’t know what to do with myself.  Therapy might be therapeutic had I the funds and the energy to commit.

I make things.  I like doing this.  I like pretty things, shiny things, things that glitter, things that shimmer  Most things pretend, but that’s usually socially acceptable.  Crystals, crystal ball, watch me fall.


I will attempt to keep things spelled and arranged properly, but my brain just fucking quits when I need it to function, so no promises there.  I used to be a ‘spelling maven,’ [no, Nazi is not an appropriate term under any fucking circumstance] but now most things elude me.  I can’t tell which fractured part of my brain is the most confuddled, but it seems to be the parts that I need, constantly.  I lost my grasp on grammar.  Things like time and life run through my fingers like water, and most of the time I don’t even give a shit.

So sorry, not sorry, I’m vulgar, get the fuck over it.

In person I am meek.  Troubled, having trouble trying to decide which words to draw upon, how to act just so – right.  I live in an area of the country where guns are prevalent, education much less so.  To be tolerable, I must create a porous shell; most bits and pieces of me cannot escape, whilst the world around me seeps in, permeating my being,  I attempt to pay attention, but I usually cannot see that which is supposed to be most evident.  Things like a god evade me.  Stuff that’s supposed to be important disgusts me.  I hate children, I hate the ever-worshiped-and-worshiping family, and church is an abomination.  My family’s not even that fucked up.  I just can’t stand those little bundles of ooze and shit.  Sometimes they’re cute, but they usually only make that face when they’re dropping a massive deuce.  And the older the get, the farther from desirable they become, with grubby hands you can never clean frequently enough, whiny noises, demands, constant ‘no’s, NEEDS and WANT WANT WANTs.

I prefer my fur-babies.  They desire love and affection, never have unreasonable demands, and will always be perfectly beautiful and adorable.  No awkward phases here.  Two cats, one dog, maybe more to come.

I want a horse but am too poor and too physically fucked up to own one right now.

Did I mention I’m fat?  Absolutely hideous.  I feel like I’m bloated, full of bitterness perhaps.  I disdain all I see around me, but mostly it’s because my vision is faulty.


Did you expect substance?  I’ll leave you be now.  I can’t compete with real people.