Bipolar is a jerk. Even in the times you are well and stable, you’re not normal. But you get used to that normal. You adjust your expectations, you learn your oddities and live.
I had a blip during our shelter in place because of medications getting messed up, but I knew what it was and why it was. That made it easier to live with. I cried a lot and got emotional, but that was part of a collective angst. I was not alone. That was not necessarily even the Bipolar.
But then I got tired. If you ask my friends how I was doing, for weeks they would tell you I was tired. No matter how much sleep I got, I was tired. And that hasn’t changed, but the reality of Bipolar has made itself known.
Last week it messed me up good…making it so, so, so hard to leave the house. Even when I knew I would enjoy where I was going the dread was devastating. And Friday knocked me for a loop. I had to go somewhere. I had to talk to people. And I talked to too much.
And I remembered what I forgot…
How much I hate myself.
