Hi
So, I've never done this before. I have been searching the internet for something about whether the intense boredom I feel is to do with my recent come down from a brilliant manic episode. There is nothing. The boredom is more intense than I have ever experienced in my life, and it is absolutely nothing to do with having nothing to do. I spend a lot of my time writing, trying to get the thoughts that constantly crowd my mind out of there so I can think of something else. So I just thought, hey!- I will do it on line, and maybe if I get some followers it will help me, and maybe help them, too. So that's why I am doing this.
As I write my brain is screaming at me. It wants me to tell you about my wonderful family, especially my kids, how I have struggled and overcome adversity, how I have achieved things I would never have thought possible, my experience of severe depression, the hypersexuality and self-harm that I experience in a manic phase, my fear of telling people about this for fear of rejection. All these things are screaming at me to tell you about them, and I just have to think where to start. Probably the best thng is just to start where I am now, and then as things come up that relate to the past, I wll tell you and you can piece my story together bit by bit.
My bi polar is a gift. When it was just depression with no highs, it was a living hell and a curse. Now I get highs, it is a gift. It is a gift because, now it is being treated for what it is, there is hopefully a chance that I won't get the depression again, or maybe not so bad. It is a gift because I know I see things, feel things, hear things, perceive things that ordinary people do not. I wake up (if I have slept at all) and the sun shines more colourfully and brightly than I have ever seen; the green of the grass and trees is vivid, intense, and I notice all the different shades and the patterns of light dancing on the leaves of the trees, even though they are so high up that I would not have seen them before. Flowers look happy. I feel happy, ecstatic, elated, on fire, so full of energy that I could burst and I cannot wait to start the day and see what it brings. My skin is super sensitive to touch. I notice intensely the feel of fabric against it, choose soft things to wear, feel it warm to the sun, get goose bumps to the touch of the wind or rain, and I delight in it. I know that I am the most desirable being on earth, kind of like a sex version of the Ga'ould in Stargate, and I know everybody wants me. I take care of my clothes, hair, makeup, skin, exfoliate and depilate all the time so that I am always ready should the opportunity arise.
Time has no meaning for me. I go super-fast, my mind quick and creative, reaching patently obvious conclusions in seconds, way before everyone else around me, and then I struggle because I have to stay in a meeting that I have already concluded in my head. I have to move...pace about, take fag breaks, print things off at printers away from my office just for an excuse to get up and move. If I have to sit, I fidget, wobble my leg, tap my foot, drum my nails, tap my pen, pick my nails, wring my hands, put lip balm on, draw pictures. Anything to move. And sometimes I just leave the meeting for a while and come back a bit later when I have moved about a bit and had a walk.
My manic episode has been brought under control now, though I am generally a little high and I have had a couple of weeks where I have been much higher again. Now I am bored. Incredibly bored. I think it is because ordinariness cannot compare to the highs. Being manic is like taking speed without the come down. If you have had speed, you will know what that could be like...and really, why would you not want it? I listen to fast music, full of percussion and bass, R&B, dance stuff, dubstep and move about as much as I can. I clean the house when I can be bothered, just for a justifiable reason for me to move around. My driving license has been taken off me. Just as well really, because I did once nearly get out of the car on the motorway, strip off and run up and down. Instead, I just laughed and laughed and laughed at the thought. That was a couple of days before I was diagnosed. Even now I wish I had done it. Sometimes I think I should just not impose these ridiculous boundaries on me, because now if I want to do something outrageous, something I would never have done before, something dangerous, I have a reason, and excuse, and part of me has no regard to the consequences. But then I get the little bit of me that remains sensible- sane?-just reminding me that I really shouldn't. Part of me wants to lose that sane part completely and just enjoy the mania. I resent having to be 'normal', or least pretending to be 'normal'.
There have been some dark, troubling things that have happened, or had the potential to happen, when I was very high. I don't know if I can tell you of these things, because they are sexual and violent, and I am not sure if I am allowed to post such things. I will check and let you know.
I know this is garbled, it s because I have a scrambled brain at the moment, all ideas and thoughts scrambled together. But I just needed to get them out. Later I will make sense of them for you.
I might even make this a bit prettier for you to look at. But at least I have made a start now. I should go now. But I will be back later to tell you more.
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