Bipolar's Bad Rap

I had a hard February - April.

It was hard to learn that I'm a defective product. Then again, those were the messages fed to me, and the messages I chose to believe.

I saw myself as defective, and I subsequently acted defective. I had more physical altercations in April than in my 30 years on earth combined!

Bipolar became a reason for everything, when most times it was just my nasty, bitchy, pessimistic outlook on life causing the trouble.

Bipolar got a bad rap.

No more.

I took back the power. I may be a couple cc's short of serotonin, but I am not the wacko that the media, doctors and society may try to portray me to be.

People can only make me feel ashamed if I ALLOW them.

I'm not ashamed of being bipolar, just like I'm not ashamed of being asthmatic or of being 5"7'.

Bipolar characterizes one small part in a greater whole, and my whole, ROCKS!

So thankful, for a mind at peace. I pray that all my readers one day achieve the peace that I know today.

A Tale of 2 Blogs

I have 2 blogs.

This one, where I interact with people who have bipolar disorder, and another one where I am me devoid of the "Butterfly" moniker.

Why?

Cuz people really can't handle both me's, and quite frankly, I don't want anyone knowing all of me any more.

I'm not trying to be negative, I'm merely realizing that just because I am comfortable disclosing and I am ready to disclose, doesn't mean that other are ready to receive or handle my disclosure.

I'll keep it simple.
I'll keep it separate.

Speaking of Disclosure

If you haven't told, take it from me, don't say a damn thing.

Keep your bipolar on a "need to know" basis; when someone "needs to know, then you'll tell.

Why?

What caused the change?

Well, people now see me as a diagnosis and ask me stupid questions like "did you take your meds" and "did you sleep last night"?

Pre-disclosure, when I was having a bad day, the suggested remedy was shopping, candy, going out to a club, meeting a new guy, etc.

Post -disclosure, the remedy for everything is medicine, and if I'm not snapping out of my funk fast enough for them, then the next question is "maybe you should call your psychiatrist; maybe you need a stronger dose."

Go to hell!

What the hell do you know about my dosage?!?!?!

To be "normal" we need people who reflect positivity, and normal living. To have everyone around you treat you like a science project is to increase the likelihood that you'll be sitting in a padded room sometime soon.

I feel like I am in a damn petridish and everyone is looking to see if I grow a tail or wild out.

Well, guess what?

I am about to wild out. Stay tuned!

Did You Take Your Meds?

I am so pissed off that I told people that I am bipolar because now every time I do anything, say anything, or act in any way that is not 100% chipper Butterfly, the first muthaf*ckin question out of their mouth is "Did you take your meds?"

I am NOT a 5 year old!
I have a brain; a fully functioning one at that!
I don't need a baby sitter or a nanny!
I am capable of taking care of myself!
I don't need anyone checking up on me!

Effective immediately, if I do or do not take my meds, it's my muthaf*cking business!

Damn!

Want me to spaz out, then ask me if I took my meds!

You'd think I had Down Syndrome or muthaf*ckin Autism.

I have Bipolar Disorder. I am not muthaf*ckin mentally retarded!

Don't ask me sh*t!

I'm afraid

I am.

I'm afraid that somehow this blogger will be tied to me and I'll be outed.

In my shining moment, my identity will be revealed.

The Man will find me.

The Date

I've been craving red Lobster for about 2 weeks.

I know, not exactly 5 star cuisine, but I like their bread and Raspberry Lemonade.

So I was in my office yesterday and a guy walked in. I know that he's been interested in me, but I digress.

So I shared my desire for Red Lobster, and he said "Meet me outside, and let's catch a cab."

I would have preferred to come home and lay in bed with Law & Order, but I went.

Guess what?

I had an amazing time.

No expectations.
No "why don't you have a boyfriend" questions.
Just talk about life, experiences, work and miscellaneous bullshit.

I had an amazing time, but I watched him transform before my eyes. Yup, I actually watch him go from "this girl is cool" to "this girl is amazing".

So what's the problem?

I don't know what the hell is going on in my world at any given moment, and lately I am as asexual as a ..... doorstop.

I have no romantic-ness in me at all.

I like hanging with him, but his cute text messages the day after lets me further know that he is smitten with the butterfly.

Darn.

I ain't trying to have a bip talk with him especially since my last couple "people of interest" turned out to be first class ARSEHOLES!

I just wanna hang out and laugh and have people buy me nice shoes.

Oh did I mention the little problem I have with going outside? See if I am already out its a lot easier. I still have that damn leaving problem.

Let's call him...uh, Mr. Potato Head.

I'll keep you posted.

Me and Anna Nicole

I didn't know her, but I surely felt her pain.

I'm not saying she was bipolar, but you didn't have to be a psychic to see that she was in severe emotional anguish.

Stevie Wonder could see her pain. (joke)

Why didn't the people around her get her the help she needed even if it meant being taken off her payroll?

If I get to where she was, who would get me the help I need?

To some people in my family, there's nothing wrong with me.

Truly only one friend knows EVERYTHING.

What if I get depressed around the friends that don't know I'm bip?

Would they care enough to get me help?

Hell, would they even notice that I needed it?

Would they allow me to self -destruct like Anna Nicole?

Hmmmm.

To Tell or Not To Tell

Does anyone on your job know that you're bipolar?

Only one person knows on my job -the owner.

Not sure how it happened, but we developed a good friendship, and he knows.

Haven't told anyone else, but if I don't get my meds regulated fast, I may be compelled to justify my absences and tardiness.

The owner has been cool.

Of course he wants me to be productive, but he's also allowing me to take the time necessary to get stable.

My schedule is flexible, and I'm mindful not to create a problem by abusing the flexibility.

I don't want special favors.

I want to be "normal"; whatever that means.

Well, I guess while I'm dealing with this, I need to be thankful for the flexibility, understanding and confidentiality.