Having Bipolar disorder is like sitting in the passenger seat in a car race; watching your life go round in circles. Only to see a car suddenly break and spin out in front of you and you having no control over it. Your life is that race and your just sitting passenger in it, well at least that’s how it feels.
I’m over feeling like a passenger In my own body. Loving me will never be easy. There will be minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months where I’m unexplainably mean, or recklessly happy.
For a period of time, I may be all over you and want to smother you in my reckless happiness, that I will forget to ask how you’re doing and if you ate anything today. I will forget that unlike me, you need to sleep for 9 hours a day and that you’re not fully ready to take on the world.
At some point, I will take a turn for the worst and will mope in unbelievable sorrow due to the death of my false happiness. I will cry about everything and will stop calling, and forget to remind you that I love you so much and just need some time away. My deep sadness will soon turn into unrelenting anger and I will tell you abusive things that I don’t really mean.
I will be confused as to why I say them, and apologize a million times and try to explain that I can’t control my anger, and that I need to leave and be away from people for a while, although I know nothing will really help.
You will insist that it’s okay and tell me you love me. For days, weeks, or months, I will do this, and living with constant regret and remorse. After this episode, I will have a period where I feel nothing and am almost robot-like.
I have bipolar, I am not bipolar.
Reproduced with permission, originally posted here