Ready. Set. Sail!
Happiness in bipolar…is there even such a thing? In case you are wondering where I am, here is the updated Map. Ever since I came out of the hospital, I’ve been scared practically to death of finding happiness. Stability I’m fine with but happiness is terrifying.
For me, I hate it. I want nothing more to do with it. Happiness always seems to be the first signs of trouble. Over the past few days, the Lexapro has started to kick in and I’m feeling fantastic. I’m not sure if this antidepressant will shoot me to the moon like Wellbutrin did but I’m praying to God it doesn’t. I’ve had enough of the skin-crawling, mind-numbing hypersexual energy. I don’t want it. And I get so nervous whenever a cute guys flirts with me and a smile spreads across my face or I get that tingling sensation when watching a hot guy in a romance movie. I’m afraid it’ll trigger me. I can’t go through that again I just can’t. Not yet at least I need a break!
I’m not accepting myself. I haven’t and I’ve tried so hard to. I still refuse to believe I have a problem. That’s so bad I know it’s so bad!! It’s so unreal that I just can’t allow myself this weakness. I can’t afford it. So I pretend it’s not there. That what happened with Mark was just a fluke. A brain malfunction. Ha! What happened to not being ashamed and not allowing other people to affect me? God it’s embarrassing that I STILL can’t truly accept who I am.
I don’t want this to be a thing so I’ve been ignoring it. But my Mania is so exhilarating! I miss it but I shy away from it. Like a vampire peeking open through the shutters on a warm summer day, I take a quick look at the light of the sun. As quickly as I open them, I recoil back violently as I slam the shutters closed and flee from what could certainly be complete and utter doom. So I retreat back to my coffin. Hidden in the darkness of my own mind. Listening intently with a jealous rage at all the people outside having fun. Basking in the warmth. How normal they are! They can wander around happy and NOT be overwhelmed by the intoxicating glow of the sun and completely destroy themselves. Fucking hate being trapped like this!
Ugh….one of the things I didn’t mention but probably should is that I’m…fuck…going to group therapy. It was highly recommended by my social worker in the hospital that I seek out Sexoholics Anonymous. She thinks I have a major problem and that learning coping skills now before I get manic again and act out sexually is the best option…
….whatever. I hate the idea of having a SA sponsor. I didn’t know they had those let alone these group sessions. Without going into too much detail (I’m really not comfortable admitting this just yet), I do have a major problem with sex. Normally, things don’t fall nicely into a “normal” category with me. So yeah. Maybe I need this. I tend to focus too much on the fantasy aspect and not enough on my husband and my marriage.
Ughh….fuck! I’m so tired of regulating every God damn emotion I have! I’m not equipped to do this let alone strong enough to fight it. I’m in a pity spiral. I don’t care. On the one hand I’m perfectly capable of saying “No” and on the other hand I can’t visualize it in the moment. I need help. I need accountability. That’s what my social worker said. She said I’m too smart for my own good.
So yeah I’m afraid to be happy. It’s one other thing bipolar robs me of: my ability to live my life without worrying. Fuck this awful disorder! It’s such a burden. Between the constant Dr visits, therapy, and all these fucking pills, I’ve had it!
Can I just get a break for a few months?