The Voices of Bipolar

I've asked some others with bipolar to describe how it feels to have bipolar. No personal info about these people will be given. I will add more if/when I receive more feedback.

Person A says: "I felt somewhat happy with a quick little description that I came up with. Not having a current pdoc or T to speak with, I am unsure how much of this is bipolar, and how much are other things as of yet undiagnosed. To me, Bipolar is like a really fancy restaraunt. You sit down for your first of many many courses. I tell the waitress what I cannot have, and then out comes course 1. I really enjoy what they bring out, to the extent that I completly engross myself into it. Everything about this particular course is amazing, I love everything about it, I try to figure out how I can make it at home. Before I am able to finish this, the waitress comes by and removes my plate and brings out course 2. Perturbed, I go ahead and dive right into this second course, only to find out that she put tomatoes. Something that pisses me off to no end. I chew the waitress out that brought it to me, pissing her off and making her cry, only to find out, she wasnt the one who took my initial order. I simply jumped the gun and took out my anger on someone who..... oh look... Course 3. This is the best course I have had yet. The meat is so tender, I wonder if maybe I should pan fry this, but maybe if I baked it I might not be able to get it as moist. Wrapping myself around this fantastic feast, I get interupted again, by the latest and greatest course 4. This time, its burnt. The waitress comes over and I get snobby with her even though she didnt cook the food, and once again, have succeeded in pissing off someone who doesnt deserve it. So before I know it, Out comes the next course. This course means to much to me. It may have been something that I remember from my childhood. The way my mom used to make slices of bread, covered with peanut butter and sugar. Of course, thinking about this, causes me to remember the reasons my mom may have made that. The struggles my mom was facing at that time in her life, but still finding a way to feed me. Upsetting, I simply run out of the restaraunt. Locking myself away in the car. My wife pleading with me that she needs a ride home. All the time, trying to find out a way to open me up, get me to unlock the doors so that I can let her inside my emotional vehicle. Eventually, I fall and decide to open the doors. We drive around, working out my issues I had, and where do we end up? Another fancy restaraunt. Sitting down for course 1, I fall in love with the food and start the cycle over again."


Person B says "I don't know how to sleep, I don't know how to control my anger, I don't know how to always socialize because it's tiresome, I don't do my favorite things, my body hums when the mania sets in, I can't get out of bed, I can't get in bed, I forget to eat, I don't want to eat, I won't exercise, I have great ideas that never go anywhere, I don't always remember where I have been, I don't always remember what I bought at the store, I wonder why I buy some of the things that I do, I sometimes can't stand to be touched, I usually cannot tolerate loud noises, especially tv, I tell people what to do with their life, I always have to be right, sometimes I talk way too much, sometimes I don't talk at all and I could go on and on. It is hard to explain to others especially because of my shame and frustration."
 
Person C says "Building up to a climax that never comes. Falling to despair as you obsess with the failure. Knowing that she is listening to your thoughts, and convinced you know hers. Standing up, and never saying a word depressed that she crossed the room, knowing it is your repulsiveness. Convinced she saw the darkest secret you think is real. But I am superman, and can do anything... however I am tired, and want nothing to do with the world. I hate myself, I am a horrible person. I can't slow down, my thoughts race with images, voices.. altered perception. Drugs, straight jacket, chemical shackles. Lock me up.. hold me down. I am afraid.


Everything is good now. I'm on top of the world. I am going to be the first one to walk on Mars. The program is just waiting to bring me in, I should train. Exercise, clean, move, destroy, slipping darkness. I can control your mind. Do what I want, damn you for not doing what I need to have done. I hate you, and cant live without you.

What was I thinking. I feel normal, not over or under. I don't need meds anymore."