blobfish-a-go-go

Do I really want to get in touch with that old friend? Volunteer to moderate that group? Foster those abandoned javelina babies? Is this a great morning to set out on a spontaneous multistate road trip?   Can I please take a pry bar to the furniture break it down to fit in the fire pit and repaint the front room? I’m thinking bright yellow  right now   Is today the day to become the world’s foremost collector of jackalopes and jackalope-related paraphernalia?   Or am I just inviting chaos? Or after decades of uphill and downhill spirals of chaos of failure is it safer to sit on my hands?   Except that jackalope thing I’m totally doing that

15% of people will experience some form of depression during their lifetime. (Doesn’t it seem like that number should be higher?) 2.5% will experience bipolar. Those numbers don't matter to the person in the throes, except when it comes to finding people who get it . It’s so much easier to talk to people about depression because they’ve been there. They can empathize. But with hypo/mania, man, it can be like pouring your soul out into a dry well. All most people have to go by are pop culture references—movies that get it wrong and news articles like that one naked lady who just wanted a goddamn McDonald’s ice cream cone. And I tell you what lady, I get it. For me, being manic is way more isolating than being depressed. There’s a veritable army of depressives out there (at least in my world full of writers and women who aren’t afraid to say what’s what). But when you’re manic, it sure feels like you’re manic alone.  

Like an olde tyme machine with different sized gears, all flying fast, barely staying in place, and the smokestack constantly whistling. Like an electrical fire inside my skin. Like a hyperactive toddler who really wants to play minigolf instead of doing the things that need to be done, who doesn’t care that it’s 97 degrees and humid as hairy armpits . Minigolf, minigolf! I wish I could actually describe to you what being hypomanic is like. But it’s a state of consciousness, so unless you’ve experienced it, the best I can do is approximate it. Alone, I switch gears fast and flap my hands. With safe people, I talk and talk and talk. Out and about I suck it in, keep a lid on it, smile too much, am extroverted and quickly disengage because I don’t want to appear CRAZY IN PUBLIC. I’m exhausted and exhausting to be around. I am in treatment. I am doing all the things I’m supposed to be doing. All of them. Still, I am hypomanic as balls right now, as very hypomanic balls. I am al...

Just like there are things not to say, there are things it helps to say. Again, there are lists online, so I will mention the three that do the most for me when I am in the throes of it. 1. Would you like some company? This one is AMAZING. It says I don’t care how fucked up you are, I will still be there. It says I will take action to make sure you’re ok rather than just send you platitudes and memes. Company can be a grounding force and a welcome time-eating distraction. Or company can be unwelcome. Even so, the offer means the world. 2. Hold on. This will end. It feels permanent. It’s an all-encompassing state of consciousness that tricks us into forgetting what life is like outside of it. Being prompted to remember what’s on the other side turns the hard times into hard work with a meaningful payoff. 3. What coping strategies are working best? At first, this can be a slap in the face. Inside an episode, we can forget that coping strategies even exist. These altered state...

There are plenty of lists of things that are unhelpful to say to people who have bipolar (links at end), and there’s no need to repeat them here. Instead, I’ll cathartically list my personal pet peeves. 1. Bipolar people are so creative. I wish I had bipolar. Fuck dude. No, you really don’t. That creative window (before becoming completely dysfunctional) is an obsessive task master that destroys whatever structure and relationships you’ve built. Then there’s the frequent depression and the increased likelihood of suicide. So, thanks for minimizing my experience, but it’s really not worth it. 2. Can you channel it? / I bet your house is so clean. What? This one always come in response to hypo/mania. And no, I can’t channel it. And no, my house isn’t clean. If anything, it’s even more of a wreck. I don’t get to choose what my brain fixates on when I’m hypomanic. I can’t magically decide to use my “extra energy” on domestic projects (nor would I). Trash everything in my closet and...

On good days I try to remind myself “This is what your normal your baseline your self feels like”   But is this a reasonable amount of feel good? Am I too happy?   After spending more than half of this exhausting life in some stage of hypomania no joy is left unanalyzed   But good days are for basking This is what we live for   And good days are days to get shit done to reconnect to get ahead of the curve because that up and down wave never, ever stops

Pull yourself together Stay positive! (hands clench)   Rein it in Keep smiling! (gets shakes)   Don’t worry about it Just relax! (scans for nearest exit)   Good vibes only! Choose joy! (head explodes in a geyser of brain matter)