Bipolar Awareness: Day 1

I haven't made a post on here in about 2 years, and I can't believe that I let myself do that. I've left myself to vent through Social Media, which I know is a pretty stupid idea; I always feel limited in what I say. It doesn't help that it seems Facebook (and Twitter(pfft... seems? Yea right!)) limit you in what you type, what you share, what opinions you express. It's just another form of oppression, another way to make people feel unimportant. "Keep your post this short; the animals attention span won't make it through the rant you want to make."

SO, two years. Two... very, very long years. Two years in which I know I've made loads of progress in being me and not just "Momma" or "Ma Hunny" but can't shake that feeling that I'm one "fit" away from a padded cell. Every time I have an episode I can't help but feel this building panic; one word away from tears, one crash, bang or thump away from locking myself in my room. Hours spent feeling useless, unworthy, small... just wanting to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

Chocolate Makes It All Better

But then a little hand or voice will pull my attention and I try desperately to push the panic down with a cup of coffee or tea, maybe a Red Bull or monster(I hate that Caffeine is the only thing that helps). I grab my frayed ends and try to keep them together, somehow I make it through and I hope that when I get up in the morning I be back to normal.

And then I curse society for making me WANT to be NORMAL. I don't though, normal is for losers; people to scared to follow their own drum. I can only blame the people who first treated me, they made me feel like I was broken, it was my fault, I could be like all the other children if I REALLY wanted to. And now that I'm "all grown up" I know they were wrong to make me look at myself that way and the therapy I went through, years ago now, did nothing to dispel this image of whose feet the blame lays at.