So here it is. I finally decided to start writing about my life. I’ve been told since high school I need to write a book about it, but that requires entirely too much effort. This is about as close as it is going to get for now.
I am 35. I was diagnosed four years ago as bipolar type 1 (the mania driven kind) when I went to the doctor to get on something to help with my depression and anger. Mind you, this was after I caught my live-in boyfriend cheating on me with the way too young for him girl that I had been suspecting for awhile. Girls just know shit; life would be easier if people just told the truth. Anyways, I told my doctor I couldn’t take SSRI’s because it made me feel like I was on speed. Her first word were, “have you ever been diagnosed as bipolar?” Nope. I was appalled at such an absurd accusation. I went for a second opinion; turns out she was right, and I was in a lot of denial. Since then, two psychiatrists and one psychologist have confirmed her suspicions. I currently have another psychologist pending his professional opinion on it since I have a new therapist. He hasn’t said one way or another yet. He is still trying to figure how I am still semi-normal and a functional adult with everything I have been through in this life coupled with the idea of me being bipolar. More to come on his thoughts.
I am a functional adult. I have a career, financially stable, relatively behaved and well-adapted children, and an ex husband who I can’t seem to shake. We live in a split level, and he lives downstairs and me upstairs so that our kids can have one house and parents who co-parent. We get along enough to maintain peace but I have zero desire to get back together with him. We have been divorced for almost 10 years now so if that loving feeling hasn’t come back yet, he’s got no hope it ever will. I wish he would date. On a side note, this was not always the case, its been for the last three years when we moved to where we are now. That’s a story for another day. I am sure that day will come out sooner or later.
So what prompted me to finally take the plunge? Well… it all has to do with a friend of mine telling me “I am not your personal diary” and then ranting about boundaries and the fact I blow up her phone because I text like a teenager. This was actually after two texts about anxiety I was having after work. Never mind the fact, she does the same, but well the issue was about me, and she has taken the stance that I am a violator to her inner peace and am too chaotic. Once I got over the fact she was out-right rude and arrogant about the whole thing, I did actually reflect on the fact that I do have a lot of feelings and opinions about life and the shit I get myself into on a regular basis. She isn’t wrong, my life is chaos more often than not. She’s probably not the only I drive crazy, just the only one to say it out loud. Still… the whole thing could have been handled better, and she could not have blown up and kept her inner calm that I constantly am being told by her that I lack. She did make sure to tell me to consult my therapist on the matter and when I find out I am wrong, she will be waiting for an apology. Oh and that she knew she was being extreme and made sure I knew she was not sorry. Guess what… he agreed she was being shitty and she has the power NOT to answer her texts. I haven’t bother to tell her this and that her whole rant was a projection of her owner inner reflections that she thrust upon me. We shall see if and when we talk again. I am finally at a point in life where I can say I don’t need friends like that. It just sucks because we were good friends. The explosive attack was not the first time. I used to keep these type of friends because I felt that was the best I can do. I do not feel that way anymore. I hope she figures herself out sooner rather than later and doesn’t continue this cycle.
So back to me and my own inner workings and life thoughts. The above squabble is something I tend to get into a lot more than the average human. I have known this about myself and have been told many, many times… I attract drama. I have finally figured out why– I have a tendency to shove a mirror in people’s faces and make them face the truth of who they really are. I don’t ever intentionally do this unless it’s a significant other I am angry at (in which I am referred to as vicious or an emotional terrorist). Unfortunately, it happens with a lot of people, most of them in a place of power over me. It happens because when I speak my own inner truth and self reflection and am functioning at the highest level of me, I make people reflect on their own inadequacies and bring out what makes them feel self conscious. As a result, I am a threat and must be taken out or at least that’s how I feel.
I am an ever evolving being who is self aware and striving to be the best version of me. People constantly tell me I am not enough of this or too much of that. There is no balance. When I am finally at a place where I am content being me and accepting of my own actions, I land myself in trouble of some sort. I just can never win. I am convinced that the universe hates me or is using me as some catalyst to change the world. The first one is more realistic and the latter is just me trying to justify why my life is such a struggle.
Well… I must be going for now. I have a puppy under my bed actively tearing up something I probably need. Until next post….
Nikki
Damsel vs Bipolar 