I stopped posting for months and months because I’m still grappling with fear. Fear of someone finding out who I am because I’ve fucked up the anonymity thing. (Someday maybe I’ll decide to use my real name on here, but for now, I’m not ready.) Fear of saying something stupid. Fear of becoming manic, deciding to take ownership of the blog, then coming down from the mania and realizing that was a crazed decision.
It’s been seven months since I last posted but I think I have a handle on how this is going to go now. Thanks to help from Salted Lithium, I had help figuring out how to set everything up.Coming out of the closet as bipolar really is that: it’s a coming out process, but the difference between bipolar disorder and homosexuality (and this is in no means meant to downplay “coming out”) is that most of us who are bipolar are never fully “out.” We tell our closet friends. We tell our partners. We sometimes tell strangers. But letting the world know you’re bipolar isn’t the way to get ahead in our society, even though there are millions of people who live fruitful, high-functioning lives with bipolar disorder.
As the guy in this video from a new site I just discovered says, people don’t know enough about bipolar disorder.
I want to be one of the voices that changes that.
Still, I doubt myself on an hourly basis. I doubt my decisions and my job and whether or not I like what I’m doing. When I wake up in the morning, there’s a part of me that wants to roll over and stay in bed, and I know this is because I am leaning more towards depression these days. I’ve increased my Depakote dosage to stave off the mania of last spring. So now I’m ten pounds heavier (in the spectrum of weight gain from meds not a ton, but it sucks nonetheless), and I’m pissed off that I can’t squeeze my ass into my jeans.
I know it’s ridiculous to value thinness over “health;” however, it’s complicated when, in my case, being less healthy feels so great. I miss the mania. I miss feeling utterly content because I’ve bought a new lip gloss and it just feels so amazing to be in a world where lip gloss exists. Right now, I don’t know where my lip gloss is. Buried in an old purse somewhere.
Also, does the Depakote actually make me eat more food, I wonder? I just ate a bowl of olives. Now onto my pills, and then, to sleep.