Jebbus…..what the hell do you think?
I know my reaction is knee jerk “do you think us monsters?”, and that isn’t the point.
I know that many people, including my long suffering husband, have been hurt by this disease, this ragged excuse for a mentality. When we rage-we rage hard. Mogo has been on the receiving end of many s screaming fit-angers so vivid that it’s a good thing the “Will and Word” doesn’t exist. My body would shudder, and quake, and it took all of my control to not strike out at him. Our walls still hold the reminders of this violence.
We have feelings. The problem is, we have too many. While you feel an aching sadness at the news that someone stomped their baby to death, I feel an all consuming anger and sadness. It infiltrates my brain, and my heart, until that child might as well have been my child, and I can feel their tiny heart beat out it’s last pulse. When you feel a quiet happiness for someone who just had their child, I become obsessive, needing to do everything, be there, give oddles of advice, and feel maybe like a mother might.
While bipolar, there are no half measures. Happy is happy, sad is sad. There are feelings-immense feelings that overwhelm.
But to you, the outsider, it may seem like there are no feelings inside us as we blithely ignore your wants, your needs. Ours are paramount. We may recognize that you have feelings and needs, but they will never trump ours. We are important. You live around us.
Isn’t that horrible?
It’s difficult to have an interdependant relationship with someone who is bipolar, because that inter part? We have trouble with that. On a manic day, our ego will exceed you. On a down day, our misery will be all that matters. You….well, you won’t.
Now that I’m medicated, I can see what I was doing, how I was hurting people around me. I see people finally coming back out of the woodwork to talk to me, after years of avoiding me, aware of my sudden shifts and callous nature. Suddenly, I see all my wrongs, and I’m pentient, and unaware of how to fix it.
Feelings are there. We aren’t psychopaths. We just don’t know how to direct it to you, or how to say the words we mean. We just don’t live on the same plane sometimes.