They don’t believe me… heartbreak to me. In whichever decree in pursuing betterment for me, I have offended the people in control of my health by trying to better myself. Now the mutiny is on me and I don’t know what I have done to deserve such scrutiny.
The painful truth is… Now! I feel like I’m more bipolar than ever. Under watchful eyes, I’ve had a breakdown then a major breakthrough.
I feel the worst type of grief realizing I have shaped altercations with friends, peers and loved ones. Just to distance myself from prying eyes. Hoping no one would notice I wasn’t doing alright… and needed help.
With that being said I am grateful for the help I am receiving.
I don’t know which duality weights heavier on my contemplative mind. The realization that I don’t have the support I desire. Or the fact that I put myself in that position because I didn’t want anyone there to help… so I ostracize myself.
I’ve always had a certain demeanor passable as charming or funny. But among the top 10, you wouldn’t assume I’d be someone hiding a “mood disorder” no… I’m bipolar and they don’t believe me you’re reading my verbal plea.
For a long-time, my illness has shaped my reality creating falsities and extremes of reality.
I recently lost touch with reality which to my mind has only happened once before (or at least that I am aware of). After not sleeping for a few days you enter a delirious state, and I feel like the results would be similar for anyone. The difference is it just happens to me. While most would probably need a stimulant.
The problem is I’ve been doing this type of rapid cycling for so long it’s become my normal (or reality), and like most, I have become used to what’s comfortable to me.
In the pursuit of treatment, I’ve been prescribed lithium to keep my chemical imbalance stable. It’s been months now, and I still don’t know what that feels like. But I do know what the scrutiny of personal opinion of equality vs. equity feels like and how it impacts my life. I now feel the reality of how I have been painted in societies eyes. I never knew what someone not worth saving looked like until my life needed saving.
I don’t understand why they can’t see past my filter: black mirror s3 e5: Men Against Fire.
For reference. I am a human being if not a living being which should mean I’m worthy of help.
Passive aggressive me please hear my plea. I’m painted as an ignorant human being for searching for help. I don’t need a cure. I don’t have decease… I’m not curable. Who I am is vital to my identity. What I need help with is dealing with the two neurological extremes tearing my life apart (ie: mania & depression).