blobfish-a-go-go

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...

Over the last two years I’ve built a “social calendar” of weekly in-person or, more often (thanks COVID), virtual get-togethers. Mostly they are play (cards with my parents, movies or favorite tv shows with friends), but some of them are work (shared constructive time, support group, therapy). These interactions are super important to my wellbeing. They give me something to look forward to. They offer connection and distraction. They keep me from feeling stagnant and help me feel grounded. One week, not long ago, everything fell through. People had other one-off events, health issues, visitors from out of town. And suddenly my world felt very small. People are necessary. It doesn’t have to be heavy, we just need people to be people around. People to laugh with, to care for, to exist with. It’s everything really, at least to me. Without people to be a person with (as often as it suits you), what’s life about? One week without my people—I went a little stir crazy, the world got a...