So now that things have finally calmed down, it’s time for a reflection. I never realized how much having a mental illness changes you spiritually, as well as emotionally and mentally. I have finally overcome the mania, and that is due to the fact that my new beau is being the equivalent of a stoner asshole. That boy definitely has some issues he is not telling me about.
I was angry today, like really angry for the first time in a long time and its mostly due to having a shit psychiatrist. Without getting into details, I have been up and down with this horrible sleep pattern for what is equivalent to years now, and this jerk is not helping to the problem he is adding to it. He’s young, inexperienced and if he had any sense he would get his shit together. I owe a big thank you to my bipolar friend in the UK for this one, because if it wasn’t for him, his patience and love, I would have lost my shit completely today. I even got the courage to make the phone call to the counseling center and request a doctor change, which I should have done a long time ago.
So how has bipolar changed my life? It has crippled me. Where I thought having bouts of mania might be enlightening in bringing me closer to my spirituality, I end up in the hospital because I was acting like a deranged lunatic. Mania has its positive effects because of all the creativity and racing thoughts that make you feel at the top of the world, but when you crash, you fucking CRASH. I think that’s what happened to me, I finally crashed so now I am dealing with the horrible low that causes nothing but anger and tears. Why does it never work out for me? Why do I attract such losers? I connect with people who have utter disregard for my feelings and find it easy to just cast me aside after they have sucked all they want out of me. I am the end of the totem pole, and the only joy I get is men jerking off at the sight of my tits. Can someone please tell me how that is going to get me closer to God? Ugh, I am walking oxymoron, I swear.
Life is about timing and about fate. I don’t think spiritually, the people who come in and out of my life are by accident. I think there is some serious truth as to why things happen the way they do, a truth that is not far beyond my reach. I just have to extend out my hand and grab it.
I have a job. I have a great family and wonderful people in my life. I can’t let stupid crap come in and destroy me. I am so tired and I can’t sleep. I am so hungry and I can’t eat. Being bipolar and medicated is the worst feeling in the world and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I don’t know, I am the point to where I just want to die, to not do this anymore, but you know what? I am going to do it anyway. Pills can’t help me and they are screwing with me. I always knew these drugs weren’t the answer, but how will I stay out of the hospital if I am not medicated? I am at my end. I would pray, but I feel nothing when I do. An empty shell of filth and sin. There is no Hell, we are living on it. This is it. No joy, no love, nothing, just emptiness and death.
I never thought about death before bipolar came into my life. I may have always been bipolar, but I never felt the need to die before. That’s what this has done to me. The doctors, the pills, all the bullshit, just robbed me of my childhood imagination and hope. Fuck you bipolar. I hate you. I hate you even more than I hate myself.
Maybe sometime soon it will all make sense and I won’t feel this way. I just wish it came sooner rather than later.