[This is not a cry for help. Btdubs.]
I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time. I guess I’ve been putting it off because there’s some (a lot) of guilt for the role I’ve played in either absconding or destroying friendships along the way. I’ll live with that guilt until I do something differently to stop the cycle. Working on it.
“All friendships take work” say the people in back. And I agree wholeheartedly. So what makes friendship with us bipolar folk different? Three things:
- Bipolar depression is like running out of data in the Karoo for weeks.
- Alienation from the rest of society for behaving very badly is very real.
- We’ve slept with your partner.
The more I think about this post the more frustrated I become. Right now I’m thinking those three things are thanks to literally every symptom of bipolar. So where do I start?
Fuck knows… but here goes:
The Milieu
I’ll tell you for free you made friends with a bipolar bear when they were hypo-manic.
They were that happy-go-lucky, passionate, articulate, funny, self-confident person who everyone wanted to be around. And INTERESTING! Golly we’re interesting with opinions from what to feed your dog to the role of kelp farming in the fight against global warming.
Another sad but true one: we’ve bought your friendship. Spending obscene amounts of money finding the perfect (in our mind) gift for you, surprise vacations and frequently buying a round for the bar … the list goes on and on and on…
We’re incredibly friendly when in this hypo-manic state. The cashier gets a hug. The barista shares their life goal. You send texts with heart emojis rather than a passive aggressive thumbs up.
By all accounts we’re living life large and carefree until: The Event.
The Event
The event is that something bipolar bear does that is totally out of this universe weird. Even scary. And selfish as fuck. The joys of hypo-mania come crashing down in an extravagant fireworks display of WTF bizarre behavior.
I’ve written about this before essentially describing the terror of knowing that a hypo-manic episode may turn manic and obliterate all the friendships you’ve made in the milieu.
Rather than rattle off a list of things I’ve done to screw up friendships (’cause it’s painful to think about and the list is long) I’ll share some of the feelings that happen on the comedown.
- It’s that feeling that you were so incredibly petulant at an inappropriate time and place that it would be far too embarrassing to visit that establishment again or talk it out with the people who witnessed this meltdown.
- It’s that feeling that you were so self-assured and cocky that there is no way on earth anyone would want to be friends with an arrogant bastard like you with a penchant for setting lofty goals with bugger all intention to achieve them.
- It’s that feeling when you’ve processed the last week and have realized you’ve either shagged a small town or slept with your BFFs BF. This is not only embarrassing it’s harmful to real people with real feelings that leave indelible marks of many, if not all, of their future relationships to come. It’s also risky sexual behavior and you could end up with an STD (cough…). Clearly this one’s personal.
At the end of this self-flagellation post the event the self-doubt begins. It creeps at first but gathers speed rapidly. If we do recall the event at all (it happens – more often for some *cough*) the conversation goes:
“Gosh, I had such fun last night!
“Oh wait didn’t I… oh shit.
“Fucked that up royally. What a dumb thing to do.”
“Hmm… I haven’t heard from [xyz]. I wonder if they’re mad with me.”
“They’re definitely mad at me. Obviously. That was unforgivable”.
Trust, we want to apologize. Are we cowardly? Yes. But still it was unforgivable, right? And will be unforgivable forever more. Without a second of counter argument to the conversation you’ve had with yourself you vow never to talk to that person again. And, with few exceptions, you will remain steadfast in this decision.
It’s not so much that friendships with a bipolar bear are drastically different to friendship generally. It’s more that they’re difficult to repair after catastrophically poor decisions on the part of bipolar bear.
I really want to put all this on “but I’m so misunderstood!”. That’s bullshit. You reap what you sow and bipolar disorder is the land upon which it grows. You have this disorder – it’s up to you to work on being being better.
It’s lonely out in the wilderness though. It’s fucking lonely. It takes real courage to pick up that phone and reconnect. It takes even more courage when so much time has passed the friendship is estranged. With time one becomes used to being in your own company and being alone. You’ve probably even come to terms with the fact that a life partner is not an option.
This got heavy pretty quickly. Wow. Let me sign off and post again with the other side of he coin, bipolar depression, some other time [when that will be I cannot say – it would make more sense to write that post when I’m feeling such which is in itself going to be difficult].
A parting thought though which I heard on an episode of BBC’s Pointless – arb. It’s haunted me ever since.
“The world is full of lonely people all waiting for the other to make the first move.”
