Look, I’ll be frank. As per usque. Things happened that sucked a whole lot.
But it occurred to me that things happen. To everyone.
My disorder doesn’t define me. In 2021 that penny finally dropped. You can read the misdiagnosis story elsewhere but to cut to the chase: my diagnosis was/is a validation of my – me. Hearing the words and processing the diagnosis was an ah-ha moment: that’s why [insert every shit thing I’ve ever done in my life and why life is shit]. Being able to “call” myself something that explained so much of me meant I knew what the problem was and I can fix it.
I’ve been very open on this blog about my journey – some might say too open. I’ve been wearing bipolar around my neck like an energetic dog with a protection cone. Yet despite this very obvious loudhailer around my neck, I’d still, and will still, be told: “You’re fine!”, “You’re a happy guy!”, “You seem normal.”, “Don’t be crazy, you’re not crazy.”, “You’re just being paranoid.”, “That’s a convenient excuse”. “You just need some sun and you’ll snap out of it”.
Look at the fucken cone bitches! Like… It’s right fucking there to see!
If I disappear in a deep depression for a week, I disappear for a week, and no one knows any different unless they’ve set my bed on fire and I still won’t get out of it. Maybe someone will ask why I am writing emails at 2:30 AM with a 32-page “ideas” PDF attached. Maybe they will.
Maybe. I cannot expect people to magically know that I am manic to the hilt – how would they know? Do they even care?
In 2021 I discovered that the answer to both of those is: no. 2021 taught me that I actually don’t give a fuck if they do either.
In 2021 I learned that only I can truly know where I am on the scale of depression or mania. In 2021 I learned that it’s OK that people don’t “get it”. They don’t have to: the only person I should be answering to is myself.
And the answer to myself is that I can know thy self and do whatever it is that I need to do to get help when I need it.
2021 taught me that: I’ll be OK. That I am strong and resilient. That I am learning about myself all the time on how to keep being strong and resilient. I have tools with a name. That Bipolar has a name, but it’s not my name.
Make way for the cone though, please.
