My life in the backseat

Bipolar disorder has its ups and downs. Quite literally. When a person is “up” or manic, they may seem happy, charismatic, positive, energized, and motivated. At the same time, they have no real control over what they are doing. Everything is impulsive. Nothing is thought out. Personally, I start hallucinating. I have to use every ounce of energy to focus on what is real and consciously remind myself to not do certain things. I have to call for help, but as I sit in the back seat of a stranger driving my car, I can’t stop what’s going on. I pick up the phone to call for a professional, but end up on Twitter or Facebook. I am out of control with no life boat. I’m drowning. I want this strange driver that I do not recognize to drive off a cliff and then maybe I can get to help. Usually, I get a break and can make an emergency appointment. I’m screaming inside my head. I’m begging for help and also hoping I die.

When it comes to the “downs”, or depression, it is like a million bricks are on top of you. A voice inside your head convinces you that no one cares. A loved one can literally be sitting by you saying, “I care.” And the voice screams that they are lying. It’s a lost cause: fighting with your head that you are worth it. I go through good deeds that I have done and my brain twists them into something else. I sit for weeks at a time trying to find one good quality about myself that my depression can’t manipulate. It’s like I’m almost to my destination and someone turns off the car and lectures me about how I am a sorry excuse for a human being for what seems as though forever. I eventually avoid everything and everyone, for I feel shame and guilt at the losing battle between me and my mind.

People often think these ups and downs are just episodes, but the truth of the matter is that I’m just waiting for one to end and the next one to begin. I never feel “myself” and when I get that moment of clarity, it makes me anxious. I don’t know myself. My head has me so messed up that I never feel as though I’m in control of the car that is my life. I feel lost and nervous. I’m scared to do or say anything.

I am always waiting for the worst because that has been my life. I know that each episode has made me stronger because I survived yet another car ride to death. This waiting game is exhausting. Manic, depressed, or normal, I always want it to all end. I do mean always. As you read this, I am suicidal. I have been for years. Some days are worse than others.

I just pray that someday people will realize that bipolar disorder isn’t as simple as ups and downs. It’s work. It’s strength. Not all of us make it. It’s hard. It’s hard all the time. To assume that it is anything else is a disservice to the millions of people who put their battle gear on every day and fight a fight that most will never understand.