This Isn’t Battle, This Is War
“Bipolar is like being on a roller coaster ride. Sometimes you can predict drop offs and others you just have to hang on because the next turn sends you into an unexpected spiral.”
– Unknown
“Although the ups and down come and go, the illness never leaves.”
I’m not sure if anyone has ever actually told me that per se, but it sounds like a mantra that can create both a positive and negative outlook for someone with bipolar disorder.
Since I’ve started this blog I’ve been dreading the next bout of mania and/or depression sneaking back in on me, affecting the perspective of my thinking and thus my writing. More specifically, the writing you see here.
I’m usually not a self-conscious person (something I have some semblance of pride in), but we all have our moments. I know I’m in a safe space because anyone here reading this must want to be, but with me there’s always a downside. To everything. It’s my eternal gift.
I’ve learned over time it’s important to stop and appreciate things, to take advantage of personal awareness. However, I end up spending my moments of clarity dreading the next round of delusional thinking and whatever else decides to tag along. All of my little “flaws” usually end up on display. Now there are just new members of the audience.
I joke about it only because I have to. The alternative is spending too much time in a place where getting lost is inevitable and dangerous: my head. I’m there enough as it is, but when cycling I’m a permanent fixture.
I’ve grown past the age of being able to milk my mania and “handle” my depression. I can’t use the illusion of things anymore, so I feel justified in being a little self-conscious.
I’m going to be brief here because life is too short for me to get stuck on something when I have the wherewithal to not do that. But there’s never a real break in this game. There’s never enough time to catch one’s breath. Which makes it impossible to always be able to take advantage of every moment of personal awareness. Even when the moments may be few and far between.
The struggle is real, as they say, and the truth is ugly. This really is my own personal war. So just bear with me when it becomes completely impossible to read between those lines.
