I always knew my mind worked differently. I could see things most people would not even notice. I observe everything, from the way a person breathes to the emotion behind their words. For a minute there being so different was okay. Reality hit, I am who I am because of past trauma and that trauma brought on my bipolar.
You see, most people inherit this type of mental illness. But I am not most people. I was four when a woman forced herself on me and the wound was so profound that my fragile innocent mind fragmented. I escaped reality by going into hypnotic type states where everything happening at the time felt like it was all a dream, more like nightmares to be honest. In fact the only way I survived my childhood was locking away the many memories of my earliest years.
It was my way of surviving this terrible situation. I was such a young age to be going through this situation and I dealt with it by myself, but the way I dealt with it came at a price. My mind broke and the bipolar crept in through the cracks. I was no longer "normal" by society standards. I was no longer me. But to be fair by that point I did not know who "me" was.
It took years for me to accept I had issues, that something was not quite right and that it needed to be dealt with but I did not want to be the weirdo with a mental illness. So I kept quiet, another big mistake. In my defense, I was already a teenager with serious anger issues and I did not want to add to my problems.
I passed from doctor to doctor and endless appointments. I was diagnosed with severe depression, ADHD, ADD, bipolar and finally insomnia. Once my insomnia got so bad that doctors were absolutely sure I was taking drugs. Then they decided to run test after test to see what kind of drugs I was on because according to them, there was absolutely no way I could stay up for four days straight and still be able to function. Labs came back clean, no shock there on my part but doctors were baffled. Insomnia was another not so great side-effect of my illness. What they did not know is that the reason I could not sleep was because every time I tried to I dreamt And would always replay what happened to me. It was like a never ending movie was playing and I was the protagonist. Sometimes doctors can be pretty clueless with these types of things.
Having bipolar takes a toll on you and everyone around you. You hate yourself sometimes because your ability to function like a normal human being is compromised. You see your loved ones struggle when you go through one of your manic episodes and you feel guilty. You start thinking maybe I am too much of a problem, maybe I am not strong enough, maybe they are better off. Which is not true at all. People with bipolar illness will fight their biggest battles inside of their minds. Sadly some of these people lose their fights, and not because they are weak, but because most of them are just too tired to continue fighting.
In my case I am still fighting my demons. I learned the hard way that being bipolar means being a hot mess most of the time and that it's okay. Being in a manic episode is part of it and bipolar depression sucks the hope and happinness out of your soul. During those days I have to fight harder.
Having bipolar is my new normal and handling it is kind of empowering. I no longer hate myself for it. I embrace that part of me and it has made me stronger. Do not get me wrong, I still struggle everyday. But now I do not care. I am who I am and there is no changing that. People might think me crazy, impulsive, and a horrible decision maker but who wants to put the time an effort into pleasing everybody, and besides, who wants to be normal anyway, right?