An alarming number of people I've encountered have little to no knowledge about Bipolar Disorder. While depression and anxiety are more commonly diagnosed and more widely understood, the most common perceptions of Bipolar Disorder have come predominantly from the media. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard the words: "Oh, so you're like Cat Valentine," I wouldn't have to work a day in my life.
Living with Bipolar Disorder is like standing in the center of a seesaw–trying to stay perfectly balanced to keep yourself from falling. It's a constant balancing act. One little change in my routine can set off a domino effect and change every aspect of my life. I'm not incapable of functioning. Sometimes it's hard for me, sure, but I am just as capable as anyone else. I'm a full-time student, I work multiple jobs, and I've found a way to make that all possible while still handling this disorder.
Bipolar Disorder is not just being moody. It consists of mood episodes that last for weeks or months. It's not something that I can control in any way, shape, or form. Telling me to stop being moody or saying that my emotions are "Just a bipolar thing" is a surefire way to make me angry.
My amygdala is like that angry old person that everyone working in customer service has to deal with. No matter how hard you try to make it see reason, it just can't be done. At first glance, it seems sweet and harmless, but it will lash out at a moment's notice. It's so set in its ways that all you can really do is pacify it and wait for it to calm itself down.
Sometimes, I get depressed. And no, I don't mean that in the way that every teenager tweets about–the "I just broke a nail and I'm so depressed" kind of way. I mean it in the ugly, crying till you fall asleep, not showering or brushing your hair for days, not eating or getting out of bed kind of way. I don't take care of myself or any of my responsibilities. I might cry at the drop of a hat. In fact, I often do. Odds are that it isn't because of anything you've said or done. Maybe it looks like that on the surface, but deep down, it's because I'm depressed.
Sometimes, I get angry—irrationally angry. Every little thing irritates me to no end. I'll snap at you without meaning to and I'll say things that I don't mean, not because I'm an angry or mean person, but because I don't have control over it. I've gotten better at biting my tongue and recognizing it when I get angry, but I still slip up, sometimes. And to anyone who's ever been on the receiving end of my misplaced anger, I am so sorry.
Sometimes, I am manic—an out of control, "I'm invincible", no concept of consequences kind of manic. I will stay up all night and not feel tired. I'll giggle at absolutely everything (oftentimes, it's very inappropriate). I have all of this electric, reckless energy with no outlet. My entire being is energized and going a mile a minute with no sign of slowing down until I inevitably crash.
But there is another side—the not-so-ugly side—the side where I am in control. There are periods between the mania and depression where I can just be me, not manic me or depressed me. The me who has a routine, the me who takes care of herself and her friends, the me who is fun to be around (at least, I hope I am). The me that I want to be.
