Oh Shit!

Yes, I left the "i" in instead of putting a "*" because that's exactly how I feel.

I was drunk, and now that I know how drunk, I feel like shit, and y'all this has nothing to do with bipolar.

Even if I wasn't bipolar, I'd still feel like shit.

People have been asking what is life like with bipolar. So, here's the difference between regular life and living life with bipolar disorder.

In regular life, I'd go home, cry, delete numbers and email addresses, eat 2 jumbo packs of Swedish Fish, I'd cry myself to sleep and then be up for work in the am.

When living with bipolar, I'd go home, cry and cry until I hyperventilate, then i have an asthma attack and use my inhaler 3 or 4 times. Then I'd delete numbers and email addresses, tear up pictures and set everything on fire with an incense in the middle. I'd then eat 2 jumbo packs of Swedish Fish, a Twix and have 2 wine coolers. I'd feel bad and throw it all up then cry. By this point I'm too far gone to remember to take my meds, or I take 2 extra to ensure that I sleep and forget what I was told. I'd sleep well past 10am, and wake up at 2pm hung over, dizzy and absent from work once again.

Do you see it?

Bipolar is an exaggerated state of regular emotions. It's like we have a defective shut off valve; we go too far in either direction.

And right now, because I am afraid to go too far in either direction, I'm numb. I type and dread the moment when reality will sneak up on me and "make me look" or when truth with hold my chin and make me look her square in the eyes.

F*ck.

There was a point when I was proud to be me, and when I want to be "on" and give everyone my representative, I make everyone feel that my life is wonderful and damn good to be me.

In those instances, I'm perfect, the picture of a successful, beautiful, well-adjusted, strong woman.

Every man wants me, and every chick wants to be me.

Today, I'd like to walk away from everything and start a new life where no one knows my name, my face, or anything about me.

I now know why I have a bruised knee, a 6 inch scratch and way less money in my Commerce account. Quite frankly, I feel like shit and too ashamed to ever tell anyone the full details.

It's my fault, not bipolar's fault.

I had a negative emotion.
I drank to counteract it.
I drank too much.

And now, I'm ashamed.
I'm disappointed.
I'm embarrassed.
I'm annoyed.
I'm angry.
I'm hurt.
I'm f*cking nauseous and want to throw up.

But I don't feel this way because I'm bipolar.

I feel this way because today, I'm a f*ck up and because of my bipolar disorder, I don't have the luxery of feeling completely and whining and wallowing in my agony because I've got to ensure that I can get an Oscar when I face the real world, tomorrow.

There. Do you know how it feels, now?