God Bipolar sucks!
I struggle with a disorder/Disability known as Bipolar 2 Disorder. I used to be Bipolar 1. But my meds, therapy, and certain rare treatments (including maturity) have brought me down to a bipolar 2. But today I’ve been in a depression state. Overthinking about past traumatic experiences, listening to depressing songs, oversleeping, and feeling grumpy. It’s like I wanna just start sobbing but I can’t because my brain won’t allow it.
Bipolar disorder actually runs a direct line in my family on my dad’s side. I can’t have kids because of it. I know that they will genetically inherit the disorder, and will start developing symptoms at like 3 years old. One of those symptoms of my genetic bipolar disorder is severe violent anger issues which takes forever to grow out of. And yes, you can grow out of it. I did, but it takes a long time. And I want to see my kids succeed in life. I can’t bear to see them fail like I did. I certainly don’t want them going to jail. Not that I’ve ever been to jail. I haven’t. But it’s a fear of mine if I have kids.
I don’t even like the feeling of being manic which is another part of being bipolar. Mania can cause my whole life to crumble. I don’t think clearly when I’m manic. I make bad decisions like spending too much money, not sleeping at all like to a point that makes me sick and in pain, I tend to push people out not thinking about the consequences of doing so. It’s like the feeling as if you are high on a drug. At lot of bipolar people love it because they are more productive during a manic episode. But I hate the feeling because I’m slightly aware that I’m causing damage to every relationship I have all the while thinking I’m the most important person in the world. It’s just an illusion of grandeur.
Bipolar makes feel like I can’t do anything right. Pair bipolar up with a disability like autism, and you’ve got the perfect disaster of human being. It seems like I just make things worse for everyone around me, and they’re all lying to me saying that I deserve happiness. I just deserve more suffering to make up for the suffering I put other people through when I’m manic. My cats are the only thing keeping me alive. I have a responsibility to them. I die, they go back to the shelter. I can’t have that.
And i don’t why everyone else sees all these good things about me. I don’t see it. I just want to become a recluse. Leave society forever. Just me and the cats. And that’s it. That’s the only way to protect the people around me from my toxic nature. I’m trying.






































































