I Forgot

11/30/13

I forgot I was bipolar.  I forgot to take better care of myself.  I forgot that I can't work long days, bring work home, eat like crap, get little sleep and start over again.

Soooo, what happened? Well.....work was crazy busy---was extending job offers back to back.  Felt good--I mean...people need jobs, right?  

But I forgot--forgot I was human. I forgot I was bipolar.  I forgot I wasn't invincible.  So what happened?  Mania kicked my ass, and took over my body.  I was a walking, non-stop machine--wired-no food, no pee-pee breaks, no sleep.  Mania. Mania. Mania-"an exceptional enthusiasm"--to say the least.

The good news? I was able to get all my offers done.  The bad news? I crashed---horribly. Terribly, horribly.  I woke up--couldn't move.  Darkness, silence--but tormenting voices at the same time.  Screaming in my ears--calling me names. The loneliness--OMG.......no one understands. No one.  Your friends try.  They really do, but they can't.  You want to be consoled, but you don't want to be touched, so your friends are confused as hell.  They don't know what to do, what to say.  They say I look like a mannequin, a statue.  Who cares? Does anybody care? Do you care that I'm curled up on the couch in a fetal position?  Do you care that I long to sleep for days even though I know I'll have nightmares.  Of course you care, you're my friend.  You just don't know what to do.

You miss work.  You miss commitments.  You feel ashamed--ashamed and angry that you can't overcome the darkness and get your ass back to work.  But you can't.  You spread your work around you at home to get it done, and almost have a nervous breakdown, so you immediately put it all away.

You don't know how long it will last.  You just have to deal with it--but deal with it you can't. Those that don't know better ask "what's wrong?" or "how does it feel?" Please never ask a bipolar person that during an episode.  Wait til after it's over, so you won't cause yourself bodily harm.  

And for GOD'S sake, don't tell us to try to shake ourselves out of it, or that it's the devil.  I may physically hurt you if you do.  I indemnify myself as I type this.  

No matter how much rest you get, it's never enough.  You get even more depressed when you finally DO have to get out of the bed.  And you do whatever has to absolutely be done, so you can crawl back in as soon as possible.

I guess I should be thankful.  Before medication, these episodes happened almost every week.  Now, maybe a few times a year.  But when they come---damn.  If I had enemies, I wouldn't wish this on any of them.  

So then it passes, and you start to pick up the pieces again---trying desperately to get back to life as normal.  Now you have to catch up at work--thank everyone for covering for you in your absence, and deal with the anger you have towards yourself.

You wonder--couldn't I have better controlled this episode? Was it real? Did I fake it? Did it last longer than it had to? Was I mean to anyone? Do I need to apologize to anyone? Am I really bipolar? Is it all in my mind? Is bipolar disorder really real?  You're days behind on washing dishes, washing clothes, cleaning your place, playing with your dog, talking to you family.  So you're trying to catch up on all that.  What's the catch??? You can't do it all at one time. Why? Because you'll go back into MANIA--and start the vicious cycle all over again.

So you have to pace yourself, even though everything in you wants to go full speed ahead. But you can't.  That drives you crazy in itself.  So you force yourself to slow down.  In the back of your mind, your fear another episode, knowing that you can't control when or if it comes.  You start to fear whether or not a day will come when then medicine no longer works.  Then what?  It is my biggest fear in life.  

I'm very open about my mental illness, because it's just that--an illness.  I didn't bring it on myself.  It's a brain disorder, typically triggered by trauma.  For years, I tried to fight my demons alone. I lived on the altar praying for deliverance.  I told leaders in the church I needed help; only to be told I needed to pray more, fast more, live better, stay holy, read my Word, listen to praise and worship music, etc.  I did all that, and I still was dying daily.  

I look for the day when mental illness is no longer a taboo in the church, especially the Black church and that my people will feel free to get the help they need without fear of judgement, condemnation, excommunication or even laughter. 

If it wasn't for medication and temporary therapy, there is no doubt in my mind, that I would not be here today.  I know that.  So I will shout it on the mountaintop wherever I go that God uses medicine.  Medicine allows me to function on a daily basis, and I'm forever grateful.  

The episodes leave you so exhausted--that even when you start to feel a little like yourself--you're so emotionally and physically drained, you still just want to sleep as much as you can. But you have to push yourself--just a little--to try to get back on track.  And in time, you'll start feeling like yourself more and more.

Some people will understand.  Some won't.  Some will avoid, some will embrace.  Some will think it's fake. Some will know it's real.  Some will stick it out with you.  Some will not want to deal with it.  You have to accept their decisions and focus on your healing.  Others can't be your concern when you're fighting for your life.  All your energy has to shift to your healing.  Is that selfish? Hell yes.  And?

Well, that's all I have for now.  So many have sent me messages of love and encouragement. I couldn't always respond.  Whenever I'm having my "Days of Fuckery" as I come to call my episodes (the term just seems so befitting), I don't always feel like talking.  Very seldom do I actually.  My closest friends know to just say "I'm here if you need me".  That's all I need. Maybe a hug or two--but not always.  

This is my life as a bipolar person.  Fun, right?  Well, it could be worse.  I can still function.  I have a job, a great family, priceless friends, etc. I know some people that are bipolar that aren't able to work at all. So I still count my blessings. 

If you ever want to ask me questions, feel free to post them here and I will respond or you can email me directly at geighjackson@yahoo.com.  

Namaste and love people.  Namaste and love.