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I have been diagnosed as bipolar. My father was a paranoid schizophrenic and also bipolar, but so far I have had no schizo problems. I have had bipolar problems however, and when I was drinking, that was the worst time in the world for my disorder. The bipolar depression is also overwhelming, as you can read in the following stories of my bipolar existence.
Mania: It was the third day that I hadn't slept much, maybe two hours, sometimes not at all. I had all this energy and I had cleaned the entire house until it sparkled, but I was supposed to go to a party that night and wondered if I should try to sleep. No, I couldn't because my brain was going crazy in my head, so I went shopping for new clothes for the night instead. I didn't need to spend the money, but I told myself that looking my best that night was more important then paying the cable or phone bill, so I spent the bill money on a tight pair of jeans with a satiny top that had soft sleeves that flowed when my arms moved. It was black, my favorite color at these times. I thought black brought out my blonde hair better, and of course, I needed a new lipstick, and foundation, and maybe a rinse for my hair. I saw a new mascara and had to have that, and perfume, as well as polish to match my lipstick. I was going to be the bomb, and when I got to the checkout counter, and the girl smiled and told me my bill was $121.98, I happily pulled the wad of cash that was intended for bills from my purse, and handed it over, smiling back, and talking to her a hundred miles an hour about the purchases. I left the store on cloud 9, thinking of how lovely I'd be, and I needed some wine to drink while I got ready. I purchased a box of blush wine because the box lasted longer and I could drink more.
A nagging feeling was inside me about the money I had spent, but I reminded myself the rent was paid and I had done this before. It was all okay and I was going to have the time of my life. With only five hours of sleep over the past 72 hours, I showered, bringing my wine in with me, and when I was done I sprayed my body with my new fragrance, and put lavishly expensive lotion all over me. I smelled divine, and then pulled on my tight, new jeans. They fit my butt like a glove, making me look even thinner than I was! My red blouse finished the look, and I got a pair of high heels from the closet that I had purchased a few days ago and put them on. They were red as well, and brought my entire look together. I dried my long, blonde hair and decided to let it hang down instead of pulling it back, and then applied all my new makeup. With each glass of wine I felt more energetic and ready to conquer any person I came across. I was beautiful.
By the time I walked into the party, I was already tipsy from the wine, but I'd taken some diet pills to even out the feeling. I could feel every male eye on me as I walked across the room to get another glass of wine. They were all waiting on me, I knew it now, and I was ready to make it a big night. I saw a guy standing alone so I went over and gave him my best smile. I tilted my head a little so my hair would fall over my shoulder, and then asked him if he'd like to dance. He set his drink down and smiled, and then took my hand and we began dancing to hard rock, something I loved. We danced a few more and then he invited me to sit with him and his friends. They were nice, but she was boring and he was gorgeous. Ha, I would bring some excitement into his life.
I began smiling at him across the table, as though we knew each other, and then batted my eyes a few times so he would know I was interested. He didn't respond right away, but finally smiled back at me. That was my cue to start playing footsie under the table with him. He pulled his leg away and gave me the strangest look. He must be afraid to follow through with her there, the boring wife. God, she was fat and had a bad dye job. How could he want to be with her? I tried asking the married friend, David, if he would like to dance but he declined. His fat wife told him to go ahead, that she and my first dance partner had some business to discuss.
Off we went and just as we got to the dance floor a slow song started up. I pressed my breasts as close to his body as I could, along with my groin, hoping to stimulate him and give him a much needed thrill. He once again pulled back, and then led me to a chair where he leaned down and explained he loved his wife, and even though I was charming, he asked me to stop flirting with him. That twisted something inside me and suddenly I was tired, alone, and the music was bothering me. I grabbed my purse and fled to my apartment where I ripped off my clothing and fell into bed, only to wake up depressed.
Depression: When I am depressed, I get so far down that my brain begins to hurt. I can't make myself get up and get dressed or be around anyone. I would lie in my bed and count the little circles of holes in the ceiling, and then fall asleep. All I wanted to do was sleep. Both the cable and the internet had been turned off, but I didn't care. I stayed in my bed for a few days, getting up only to use the bathroom and to find a bite to eat, but I wasn't hungry much. I had no desire to do anything, and what was worse I hated the world and everyone in it. I couldn't imagine having to deal with people. My hair was oily and my body was filthy. My clothes that I spent the utility money on were wrinkled and stuck to my sweaty body, but I didn't care about that either. I wanted to be left alone so I could die in peace, yeah, death sounded lie a good answer about now.
These are the emotions of a bipolar person. There is help out there, help I finally received so I could live a normal life and not go from embarrassing myself in public to staying in bed for weeks. If you are bipolar, please, get some help.