Without Even Realizing

Without even realizing it, I spent so many years scared of the 'happy' phase of bipolar. It never occurred to me that I was bipolar. I just learned that when I started to feel great after 5 hours sleep a night that it was a clue that a deep low was coming. I just learned that when I began to get very enthusiastic about doing so many things - too many things to handle - but wanted to do it all and tried to do it all in a whirlwind of activity and drive, that a deep low would soon follow. I began to suppress the high to avoid the low. I became very very good at doing it and I didn't even realize I was doing it. Not until recently. I stopped allowing myself to binge clean. I stopped allowing myself to get up and do anything on the nights I couldn't sleep. I stopped allowing myself to get 'giddy' when interacting with others. I stopped allowing the productive things in order to avoid the inevitable lows that followed. I called them 'tanking'. I would just run out of energy - or so I thought.

During a 'high episode', there would be such a disconnect between how my life was going (usually difficult) and how my body felt (usually pain of some sort) and the wonderful mood I was in. Those were the times of 'manic' or 'hypomanic'. And I learned that a low would follow and wreck (and then some) all the good progress I was making. Or I would make a super stupid decision in the mania or mixed episodes that would take so long to recover from. And then I would feel so horrible about myself - how could I do that? How could I do something so wrong when I knew better.

So instead, I stopped progressing, I stopped the manic so I wouldn't have the bad lows. The 'depths of despair'. Instead, I began to have severe anxiety from not taking care of the things I needed to do and just had a constant dull low. A fatigue. It felt bad, but also sort of normal.

So now that the meds and vitamins are preventing some of the low. I'm feeling more mixed episodes (agitation, anger, motivated, happy, content). I know I have to be careful for so many reasons. But I'm feeling ready to start to clean up the messes I've made. The illness is only an explanation, only a clue as to how to what I need to do better in life - not an excuse. Though it is very real, I never want it to be an excuse. Cliche alert: There is a light at the end of the tunnel for me.

I have a ligit fear that I've nurtured for so long that people will soon see how unstable and unreliable and how negative I am. I'm starting to overcome this fear of making friends. I've even connected with a few new and caring people. It is so nice. I'm starting to feel better able to commit to extra-curriculars for my children and myself. (Though forcing myself to focus on one is hard.) I'm starting to be able to see the positive. The positive in how my kids behave and in who they are. The positive in how I behave and in who I am. The positive in others who are in my life.

I am beginning to come back to life. A fragile life at this time - one which still needs lots of professional guidance. I am so grateful for it - for the life and the guidance! I have so much hope for a healthy me to emerge. One who is able to make good decisions; one who can achieve success.