the joys of living la vida bipolar

4 06 2009

Okey dokey…

Let me preface this post with a disclaimer:  Thus far, my hatertots has kept things pretty light.  I’m not a shallow tot, it’s just that some things are more fun to talk about, such as the epic hotness that is Robert Pattinson (inserted purely for the tag).  That’s just how I roll.  But…

The other day, a family member said to me, “If someone who didn’t know you read your Facebook updates, they would think you had mental problems.”

Encouraging.  Don’t ya just love the “eff-you” brutal honesty that only your family serve you?  Me neither.

I wanted to quip that these unidentified Facebook  stalkers probably wouldn’t be too far off the mark with their hypothetical observation.  But I didn’t.  Because I was still holding back my pet secret.

Well, my pet’s gone and chewed through its leash.

I’m not sure why I haven’t told many people about my bipolar disorder.  Maybe shame–yeah, that has alot to do with it.  Like, if I were a stronger, better person I wouldn’t have got the stupid thing in the first place.

Buckets of  fear–that people wouldn’t believe me, that they would think I was just being overly dramatic.  (Trust me, if I was going to pick a disease purely on the glam factor, bipolar would NOT be my first choice.  Or my second.  Now, multiple personality disorder on the other hand…)

Fear of being a freak–that people would feel compelled to walk on tippy-tip-tip-toes around me, scared that at any moment I might flip out and go on a rampage.

(And there’s always the comforting fear that I might indeed flip out and go on a rampage.  I’m forever hoping that these would be hugging rampages, thus far no dice.)

There’s alot of people who read this blog that, sadly, I will never have the pleasure of meeting.  But there’s also alot of people who read this blog that I see all the time.  They know me, but they didn’t know that for the past year I’ve been going through all this.   That’s the scary thing.  Be kind, I feel like I forgot to wear pants to school today.  Pretty damn exposed.

So if I’m so flipping uncomfortable, why am I writing this?  Well, I think I’m writing this because, at the core, I’m pretty selfish and writing about all of this makes me feel better.

Don’t despair–my hatertots won’t become “my bipolartots” or anything.  Just from time to time I may share some experiences, things I’ve learned, or something I think may help someone else.  That’s another, more selfless goal for writing about my bipolar disorder.  Maybe someone out there is struggling with this same disease and can relate to, and gain insight from, what I post here.  That is certainly my hope, anyway.

So there it is.  Hmm…I feel kind of…cleansed, actually.  And, since I want to end this on a high note…

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