Liberation

We all, as humans, have our moments of weakness. We have those moments where maybe we're not completely sure of who we are. Unless you're like me, that feeling ends. Every morning I wake up, and I'm unsure whether Tigger or Eeyore will be making my decisions for me. I have a Bipolar Disorder. My specific Bipolar Disorder is when I have rapid mood swings that are beyond my control. One moment I could be on top of the world, but in the next, it could be falling down around me. There is no liberation in my mind.

Growing up, I knew I was different. I never understood why up until my last year of high school. I began to feel as if I had no control over my life. During that time, all someone had to do is say something as simple as hello, and I would randomly get depressed or irritated. I knew I needed help, but just as it feels with many other mental illnesses, I felt like I didn't have the support. The worst part is, most of the time, it would be right next to me.

I finally couldn't take it anymore. I had gotten to the point where I just didn't know what I was doing with my life, or who I would hurt. So I contacted a counselor who dealt with mental illnesses. When my suspicions became reality, I thought I was crazy. I confessed this thought to my counselor, and she said to me, "You're not crazy, but then again, you're not entirely sane. I'd be lying to you if I said that, because none of us are. That's what makes us unique. It takes a really strong person to battle with your own mind day after day." Despite her overly generous words, I still felt crazy. The way people looked at me, and laughed, made me feel awful. I had never felt crazier, or perhaps more alone, in my entire life.

I felt alone because I have lost many people due to my mental illness. It's hard for people to understand what I was, and still am, going through. They think that all I have to do is smile, and everything will be okay. It's not as simple as that. I wish it were that simple. I wish I could snap my fingers, and suddenly everything was okay again. I also know that none of that is reality. Reality is waking up every morning knowing it's going to be tough, and facing it anyways. I still haven’t told very many people, and despite some of their love, I still feel ashamed. In truth, I don't want people knowing because I don't want anyone to look at me differently. It terrifies me when something happens, and I think my cover is blown. I have to hurry and cover it up by saying that I didn't get any sleep the previous night. Once they think I'm just tired or stressed, I can finally breathe.

I told my best friend of ten years, and the first thing she said to me was, "I know." All I could do was stare at her. What did she just say to me? She knows? I sat there just wondering how, how in this time that I need her more than anything, she can be such a smart aleck? Clearly she didn't understand what I was going through. Even if she did, it made me shut down and there was no opening me back up. She was the ONE person I was more than ready to open up to, and I just felt like I was shot down. After that, I never tried to tell anyone again. It wasn't worth it.

A few months after I started to see this counselor, I was admitted to a mental hospital. While I was there, I was given mood stabilizers. My mood stabilizers only helped to an extent. They kept me calm during the day, but during the night they seemed to disappear. I just seemed to become so irritable, it made me feel awful. I felt like I should go and hide so I would no longer hurt anyone. Each word that came from my mouth was like a snake about to bite. It is nowhere near pleasant.

It's been four years since I found out, and there are still so many rough days. Very little people understand what it’s like to feel like this. I wake up in the morning thinking I know who I am, but by the end of the day I swear I’ve changed seven times. I could literally be in the middle of a fight knowing I shouldn’t do something, and do it anyways because I have no control. I can’t comfort myself when I’m like this, so I have to count on others to do it for me, but that creates another problem. When they try to comfort me, I push them away and then get mad because they’re not there for me. I feel ridiculous. I’m tired of hearing people telling me that everything will be okay because it won’t be. I’ll never be healed, all I can do is survive. I can’t fight it, I can only accept it.

Attempting to fight a mental illness is like fighting a war where the enemy's strategy is to convince me that the war isn't really happening. It sounds absolutely crazy, but it's the truth. I've learned that although having a Bipolar Disorder can make me unstable, I am still able. Therefore, everything is going to be hard, but I can still push through it. There is no liberation from my mind. I may not be able to escape it, but that doesn't mean I can't compromise with it.