REFLECTION FROM JANUARY 22nd, 2009**
RE: Figuring Out what it Means to be Bipolar
WRITTEN – 1/22/2009 @ AGE 27
I think the best thing to do when you’re desperate is to sit tight and really focus on the consequences of actions you’re planning to take. To really think about the situations you are putting yourself in.
Today I just hate feeling like other people see me as this bullet that they’ve dodged. I don’t necessarily want them to have dodged me. I want to hurt them like they’ve hurt me. And I hate that I can’t do that because then I’ll be no better than they are. At least this way I’m better than they are. I’m a better person. I’m a better lover. I’m more beautiful. I’m something worth being.
I just hate being the kind of person people think about and say my goodness, thank god I’m not her. Thank god I’m not bipolar and thank god I don’t tell other people inappropriate things about myself. Thank god I don’t have a Star of David on my goddamn foot for all to see.
I don’t know…I just wish I had a timeline you know? So I could say, okay, only two years and three months left to go until my life begins to be one worth living. I mean, I guess by default I assume my life is worth meaning, but I want to know it’s worth living. I want there to be no doubt in my mind that it’s worth living.
I have so many “flaws”, the biggest being my bipolar condition. I mean, I guess I’m not all that different than normal people, I just feel a lot more often and with a lot more intensity than normal people would. In a way, come to think of it, I really enjoy sometimes, being bipolar. When I swing back and forth I come up with interesting stories to tell – being bipolar makes me different, it makes me special.
I get really angry with myself sometimes for even telling my previous social worker that I smoke pot, a lot. But what I really really wanted was to get better. I wanted to know what was wrong with me so I could fix it and not kill myself before doing so. I used to get so suicidal and depressed, it really makes me sad to think about my having to go through all that. But it’s just so interesting that I have my experiences down in writing for someone to see.
Someday I’ll meet my soulmate and he’ll want to know about me so deeply that I’ll allow him to read my journals. And he’ll learn all kinds of things about me, and we will share in the torment and depression and anxiety and mania, we’ll share it all with one another. I’ll share my all with him and he will stay. Everything I have to give, I will give, to him, and he will not take it from me and leave. Ohh how I ache for my love, lost in this big wide world.
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