At first I thought it was all perspective. I’m not sure how or why she diagnosed me but she did. When I was 17 I was diagnosed with bipolar type 2. I’m amongst the more milder cases. At first I thought everyone was full of shit. I was just fucking angry. I felt like everyone around me just didn’t want to admit their wrongs, I was just someone to blame. “Oh, you’re bipolar. You just need your meds.” in my recent post’s I’ve talked about me telling people to kiss my ass most of my life and this was one of those instances. People think they know you so well… that they can just tell you what you are or what you need. When in reality they don’t know shit. They may know parts of me. Shit, I know parts of me. But all bullshit aside, I don’t even know who I am sometimes.
My opinion; no one could ever know you better than you.
Lately I feel myself falling into the depressive state. Mind you, I haven’t experienced depression in months maybe even a year. Highs can last for months, and my highs are EPIC.
I refer to it as “feeling like Jesus.” As if anything in life is attainable, I can just do it all. RIGHT NOW. and I will, WATCH. I’ve gotta say, I have accomplished some pretty amazing things during those times and it’s been a awhile since I’ve been swallowed by the darkness.
When I was diagnosed I was on a high. Shortly after, I fell into a deep depression while being on the medication. I was so afraid… afraid to go outside and to be with people. I didn’t trust anyones intentions. All of this was combined with another traumatic life event that happened at the time and I think it’s ultimately what caused the depression.
When I’d lay in my bed, I felt hopeless. People who thought they “helped” just made it worse and I felt like they knew it too. They saw me. I didn’t smile, they knew I was crying. I wouldn’t dress up. I wouldn’t go out. I thought of suicide several times through out the day.
My mom and dad told me I was doing “so much better.” I could feel the anger wallow up Inside me because the people who were supposed to be talking care of me didn’t even care or notice that I was dying. I decided to stop the medication and never took it again.
I’m 23 now, I feel like I’m able to control myself pretty well.
But the cycle of life continues and once again I am lost… feeling the darkness beginning to grab hold of me. I don’t even feel bad for me anymore. I’ve accepted the darkness. I just wish my loved ones understood. Maybe think of it as me going away for a while… but I’ll be back.
“Please don’t be angry with me. Please don’t forget, I love you.”