I have this friend of mine, or had I should say, whose stopped talking to me for the second time now (it’s my fault, I assume, since my being Bipolar, I can’t really say for sure, at least not with any certainty, so out of a fifty-fifty even split, I’d have to give her the benefit of the doubt with a seventy-five percent share, because the way my mind works sometimes, I’d be surprised if I even ended up getting a twenty-five). We had, or rather, I had gotten into another argument with her, sort of, about something (it doesn’t really matter what) of which I was convinced I was right, and she was wrong to have changed my mind, as she had done so a few weeks ago.Later, she said that she was sorry if I were to take this the wrong way, as I was taking everything else, but she was going to be taking a break from talking to me for awhile; she found it to be too exhausting for her, and that she’d rather spend the time doing something else.
Now, if it was anybody else, I wouldn’t have bothered about it as much as I did, but there are a very, very few people I can talk to as I could talk to with her. You see, this woman who I had discovered and who had chosen to be friends with me, was someone who was very close to her father, who also had Bipolar Disorder, but a milder version of the disease; his last relapse being two years ago. So, unlike me, who’s in a Rapid Cycling phase right now, my friend was of course not privy to such mood swings of mine, and probably didn’t know how turbulent a time I was having, which ended up aggravating me to no end to think that she might be ignoring my feelings in some way.
And it gets worse. From once every three months when I would end up going under (which would last for a couple of days, not more than five, if that many) I’m now down to once a month, where my high phase will last me about a week or so, and then the down will come and wash away everything for the next 20 days… and the dreams that will plague me during this time; they’re ferocious… she’ll come at me with everything she’s got, all her words and wisdom, and I won’t stand a chance, until I get out of my slumber, and then, she better be on guard, because I’ll be coming at her with everything I’ve got, all my reasoning and logic, and common sense, and I’ll annihilate her.
But you know what, there were these guys (and girls) who I was reading about yesterday, who’d have to endure this kind of trauma from the manics in their lives, and I think that’s exactly where I’m headed; I think my fairytale dream of getting married to someone who I could live out the rest of my life with, will just be that—a fairytale, because I don’t think anyone in their right mind would want to marry a person with “damaged goods” tattooed to their forehead. And even if they were, I’d rather do the honourable thing and bow out than take the chance of subjugating TWO lives to this hailstorm.
Which is what leaves me with the only option I have—my friends, or so called friends; don’t worry—it’s only a matter of time before I end up alienating them as well. Anyway, why I was so glad to have found her, the lady in question, was because: she’s in a committed relationship with the man she hopes to marry soon, so I have absolutely nothing to worry about as far as developing any sort of a romantic inclination towards her, which I am hopelessly renown for; she tries to take care of her father as best she can, whenever she can, and he happens to have bipolar disorder as well (like I do, which gives me hope that maybe there is this one person who can possibly understand what I’m going through, but I doubt that will ever come to fruition after what I’ve done); and she’s great to talk to, because in spite of being an American, she knows about this side of the world as well, and I really like that about her.
I know I’ve made mistakes, but it’s not easy coming here in the middle of all of you and trying to adjust myself to your ways of thinking, and acting, but I try. I do my best, hell, I’ve been doing it my whole life, and now when I get the chance to put it into action, sure, I’ll make a few mistakes, but can you not see the mountains I’ve had to traverse to get here? Can you not give me a little space, just a little bit, some room until I get a strong enough footing so as to start making my descent.
