Confronting the Demon

To be completely and utterly truthful, despite the insanity and upheavals of manic and depressive (and sometimes mixed state) episodes — there are times when I wonder to myself if I have any problems. These recent trips to the mental health clinic and to see the counselor aren’t my first rodeo, so to speak; in fact, I’ve been here 3 or 4 times before. I go for awhile, get medicated, start to feel a little better, and jump off. I chalk it up to this or that, and pretend to ignore the repetitive diagnosis of “Bipolar”. Doesn’t matter if it runs in my family. Doesn’t matter what the Docs say. Doesn’t matter if I’ve experienced the ups and downs of it myself. There’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing mentally that I can’t solve on my own.

Well, time and time again, that theory is proven wrong. Apparently, it’s even a symptom, which is cruel and funny at the same time.

But now I am going to confront the demon, so to speak. I know that I have a mental illness (and then some, but Bipolar is the most debilitating). I owe it to myself, to my friends who care, to my family, to see this through until the end. Even if it means a lifetime of medication.

Part of my fears in this is the medication, you see. I realize that I am “chemically challenged” upstairs, but the idea of taking medication that rewires everything up there is frightening. And the manic, paranoid side of me, who tends to be conspiratorial in nature, wonders if the wares peddled by the pharmaceutical companies are really all they’re cracked up to be. But, what’s the other option? Not taking meds? That doesn’t work. My mood has been so unstable lately that I feel completely volatile, I’ve considered hospitalization for crying out loud. A person shouldn’t be as passively suicidal as I am on this frequently of a basis. In my current mixed state, I have all the racing thoughts, sleeplessness and irritability of hypomania with all the depression, lethargy and hopelessness of depression. I feel like that white noise screen on the old TV sets, all these black and white dots fighting each other and scrambling from place to place, with a constant ‘KSHHHH’ overtone. That describes my thoughts right now to a tee. It’s driving me batshit.

I digress.

I want to keep it up this time. I’ve got a small support system in place this time around, to offer encouragement, or a swift boot to the ass, if I start to spew out the ol’ “Guys I’m cured/fine/better!” antics. I acknowledge to myself that I need help.

… And I acknowledge to myself that this isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for this. But it is my responsibility to take care of it, before it takes care of me.

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2 Responses to “Confronting the Demon”

  1. bipolarblake Says:

    I haven’t, no, but it’s been on my mind a whole lot lately as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up there.

  2. I’m really glad you have a support system. Mine is lacking to say the least. Have you ever been hospitalized? I haven’t but I’ve been thinking about it a lot this month.

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