Being bipolar feels much like wading through treacle in a cold, dark, stinking cave. But, sometimes it feels like being the ball bearing in a pinball machine, whizzing around, smacking my head against everything.
I feel like two completely different people; one of me with a bit of a handle on life, and the other like a space cadet terrorised by my acute senses, hallucinations and my screaming, racing brain. I feel out of control in manic episodes and the depressive episodes leave me numb, lifeless and disconnected from my body and the world around me.
The depression makes my body so heavy and fatigued. I feel like I am living in a lead suit. The mania makes me vibrate with boundless energy with no means of shutting down; but oh so soon, I crash back into the lead suit.
The hallucinations make me feel like I am crazy, mad, insane, and not deserving of my place in this world. I hide away unable to make sense of the warped and distorted world that I am trapped inside.
The bipolar rapid cycling robs me of my platform of stability; it leaves me with no choice, but to climb aboard the roller coaster, put my hands over my eyes and hope for the best. Once the roller coaster is in motion, the only way off is to jump and terminate my existence.
The suicidal impulses suck the breath out of me and paralyse me with fear. I get pinned to the couch by an invisible glue, an overwhelming gravity. Then later I’m left with a sickening feeling of guilt and shame that makes me sob for hours and haunts me for weeks.
Some episodes slam me into a wall and smash my world apart to expose the goblins and demons that terrorise me with psychotic images and sensations. My emotions are smashed against the wall over and over, relentlessly. My senses are torn to pieces by walls of sound that break into shards of glass and seek me out with rapid fire motion. Like heat-seeking missiles. They tear through my muscles and cause intense pain.
That’s what bipolar disorder feels like to me.
Image courtesy of Pixabay