To even narrow this number down to fifty would be a challenge. There are so many different facets of bipolar disorder, that most of us—not even those of us suffering from this disease—will ever lay witness to. For most 'victims', it's buried deep within our brains and our souls, never to come out for the world to see. We tend to crawl deep inside our bodies in hopes of never being caught, ultimately to be left alone instead.
As we know, there are many ups and downs to bipolar disorder and that is in fact, what bipolar means—to be caught in different waves of mania as most struggle through what feels like, sheer hell. I can honestly say that I have experienced these waves of hell over this past year and a half alone. Even though I've had my family side-by-side with me every step of the way, I was alone while suffering these demons deep within my inner being. I never knew how to climb out of what felt like, the shell of my body. It was a challenge and therefore, a constant daily struggle.
I have recently learned that bipolar disorder has become a common disease among people of all ages, not just myself, but many others as well. As I was going through many stages of mania, I felt as if my world was crumbling below me, thus enabling me to always consider random thoughts of suicide. How would I do it? Why should I do it? And worse, when will I do it. There were times that I wanted to race upstairs into my kitchen and pull out a large, sharp kitchen knife only to free myself from the recurring reminders of pain. Thankfully, I didn't have the courage and eventually I would overcome these evil spirits that permeate my body everyday. Realizing that suicide is not only the answer, but a permanent effect of what my family would have to endure for eternity.
The feelings of what I struggle through with my bipolar disorder is a constant reminder of how sometimes, my medications don't always work. They're not always the answer to pure happiness, nor is it the end-all cure-all. Am I on the wrong meds? Perhaps. But according to my 'drug dealer,' they're the best that I could be on. Maybe a little tweaking here and there, but mostly an excellent concoction of a pharmaceutical mix.
I always daydream of how my life will improve, and how I could be filled with pure content. Yes, I'd be satisfied with that, considering how common it would be to be filled with pure happiness? Does it even exist, or are people just walking around fooling the rest of us, giving us the notion of envy? My cousin, for example, is most likely one of those people. She is, however, in a different position than I am, and will ever be. She and her husband are extremely wealthy. Oh, I don't mean the kind of wealth that most people are accustomed to, but a fortune that is only a small percentage of the population. They are worth hundreds of millions of dollars, therefore giving them the freedom of unlimited travel and lack of worry. I don't expect anywhere near that, but only a feeling of content and no worry of finances would satisfy my need of happiness. I realize that money is not always the answer to exuberance, but it sure would help.
If only.
Am I green with envy? Absolutely. Throughout my cousin's entire life, she has never had to worry about bills, finances, working or the like. My aunt and uncle have always been well off, consequently providing her the life of luxury. After marrying her husband, his business venture became a successful one, therefore giving them the privilege of infinate affluence. Is that fair? Mostly, it is. He worked hard. He didn't grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth like my cousin had the advantages of, ultimately providing him with the means of such wealth. I respect him for that.
Perhaps it's my bipolar disorder that provides me with such envy and obsession to their situation, but I know it's just mostly jealousy instead. I know my meds, or even hypnotherapy, couldn't solve these feelings or eliminate them completely. Maybe I'll be provided with control, or just a way of moving forward with my life without looking at them as if they're so much better than me, just because of their wealth.
I know there are so many dimensions of bipolar disorder, and I know they affect me in a way, that pulls me beyond my control, but I still continue to persevere in order to become 'normal' again, instead of a constant feeling of resentment. The ups and downs of my frequent manic episodes. If not for myself, but for my family as well. They deserve a stress-free life where walking in the door is not a walking-on-eggshell feeling of worry, waiting to see if the smile on my face is evident to provide them with relief, instead of wondering if I'll explode into fits of anger.
The many shades of bipolar disorder will one day pull me out of the continuous spirits of mania. I must have confidence that I will heal, and I will get better.
Or I'll go 'crazy.'
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