Stranger in the Normal World
Bipolar has ripped apart
my life. I now fear so much. I wonder if there will be future episodes and if
so, how frequently and how intense. No one can give me answers, except take my
meds, know the warning signs, live a well life. But I wonder about my ability to
hold down a full-time job, earn a living, have friends, fulfill responsibilities
or even what about raising a family one day. Will I be tempted to induce mania
again? Now I am always preparing for the worst and in a small corner of my mind
I hope that if I prepare long enough, the worst won’t happen.
Shame, I have learned, is the aftermath of an episode or attempt. Sometimes I
feel disgusted with myself and I see what is sometimes in the ruin of a manic,
mixed or depressive episode. Then even more so with a suicide attempt, as I
strike fear in the very people I love. Then I have to reconcile the different
views of myself, from a vivacious intelligent, energetic young girl with great
hopes for herself and the world, to a pained, tired, seemingly older woman who
tried to kill herself twice. Then I try to reconcile myself after psychotic
episodes from an enraged, insane, self abusive woman to a well-spoken,
intelligent, caring woman. These are the thoughts that strike me at the heart. I
know too, that this madness kills more than myself through mistrust, pessimism,
discontent, erratic behavior and brutal moods.
These days I am aware of both the restraints and possibilities that come with my
disorder. The temptation of staying manic has died down finally, just by the
sheer knowledge of what has happened and the remembrance of these last few
months. I now have become frightened of what could happen with this madness. The
issue now in taking my medication and living well is not whether I miss the
highs or if they make me sick. The choice is between madness and sanity and
between life and death.
So now here I am, embarking on being normal. I know so many people think that I
might welcome normalcy with open arms. I’ll have normal sleep and energy etc.
But it’s harder for me: getting used to sleeping through the night and not
working and seeing myself as unproductive. Some people now tell me that I am
like the rest of them. But I don’t compare myself to them, but only to the best
I have been (hypomanic). I feel removed from my most outgoing, most productive,
or most intense.
As a result of all of this, I am searching for that line between manic and
normal or depressed and normal. I believe what Dr. Jamison says about this, “
when I was manic, life’s tempo seemed slow, normal, frenetic seemed okay and
depressed the temp is impossible” I need to find the definite normal. I have
noticed too, since I’ve been stable, that I know very little about the normal or
stable world and I don’t know what it will be like to live in such a place. I
have become a stranger to the normal world. It’s like I’ve been removed from the
world for 10 years and now I’ve been dropped back in it and I have to figure out
how to live in it again. I guess I have been disconnected and been so far away
fighting my internal war.
But I’m finally willing to give precious time to become less of a stranger to this world. I can live in the world again, even after I have given up. I thought living in the mental illness world was quite the challenge, but now I see it is living in the world stable that is the challenge and the one I’m finally willing to fight for.
