I am writing about bipolar disorder because it’s time to celebrate and share how well I am doing. I didn’t talk about it for the longest time because I was so afraid that I would have a major set back but that has yet to happen.
I was doing some really fucked up things when I was ill, I was meeting men that I didn’t know but all I did was smoke some weed with them. One guy wanted me to put on his x wifes fur coat and that was weird so I didn’t do it and made some excuse to leave.
I got scammed out of 23 grand, yes you read it right, 23 thousand dollars because I was so “in love” with a no name no face person on the internet. I was so desperate for love that he got me at the perfect time in my life, when I was weak and vulnerable.
When you are ill you feel so bad about yourself and when someone starts to build you up you grab a hold of them like they are a life saver. You get caught up in the bullshit they lay on you and you start to have feelings for someone you have no clue who the fuck they are.
You forget shit and lose stuff, go on spending sprees and sex sprees, you are very loud and appear disoriented, which you are at times. The mania keeps you up for days and you are wound for sound until the lows hit you with the force of a locomotive.
Depression sucks you down and you have no desire to do a damn thing and when it’s really bad, you do not shower, brush your teeth, hair and you have no desire to take care of your hygiene what so ever. You have no desire to do a damn thing and only do what is absolutely necessary.
You walk through the days without any desires at all and you care about nothing or anybody, you are just walking dead. The depression makes you feel so down that suicide is the only escape or so you think at the time.
I was going to hang myself, I had the rope hanging from the garage door frame and had the dead man’s noose ready to go and Bob, my husband came home and stopped me. I was so ready to hand myself and I wasn’t thinking twice about it either.
But those days are gone, yes they are behind me and I am well, finally I am feeling great ok maybe not great but pretty damn good about myself. It’s a very hard illness to control and I have been trying to control it since I was diagnosed in 2002.
It’s been ten years of pure hell but I have finally gotten the beast under control and I am aware that I could succumb to the illness again. I keep a strict eye on myself and take my meds, see my dr. and go to counseling.
When you are down you cannot see up and do not believe you will ever feel better again but there is hope even though you may think there is none. If the truth must be known and it must if you are not getting better then you have several options.
First, let your doctor know that the meds aren’t working and if he/she doesn’t change your “cocktail” to your liking by the fourth time then it’s time to change doctors.Do not hesitate to change your doctor or voice your concerns.
For those that prefer holistic meds add marijuana, yes I know we have been programmed to think marijuana is a bad drug. Look at the side effects of all your meds and you will find that marijuana is so much healthier for you as is other naturals.
Smoking weed really does help as it relaxes you and puts you in a euphoric state of mind. Yes, it helps hell it helps a lot and is quite beneficial, I find it to be a “friend’ that cares and helps me unwind and chill out for a while.
My father passed in January and him and I would smoke weed together as we talked and he taught me new things. He was big into holistic medicine and he could control pain like no one I ever knew, he passed at home from colon cancer and I gave him hash laced joints for the pain in the very end days.
My dad was 74 when he passed and he smoked weed his entire life and he didn’t think twice about smoking and he accepted everyone for who they were. My dad’s IQ was off the charts and he created new laws, worked on a secret project for the govt, and he came up with money saving ways for a hamburger chain.
My dad knew I was ill and he tried to help me and keep me focused, he could tell when things were not going good for me and he knew when the mania had taken hold of me. My dad was someone special and I knew him as a man not a father.
He had me try different herbs and such to help me and he loved me even though he never said it. My father and I had no relationship until six years ago and the relationship we had built was special and I miss him so much but he accepted me for who I was, illness and all.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you cannot get better as that is a fucking lie, there are those that get better and I am here to stand up and say “fuck you I am better and you cannot knock me down”. Never give up and let go, never accept what others say.
I am the proverbial bipolar bad ass as I have overcome adversity and I have become one of the few that have gotten that bastard under control. You can never give up or give in because it’s up to you and you alone to take a stand and get help.