“We Need to Talk” and Bipolar Two
My fingers tremble as I write these words and I feel like I might throw up. I’ve tried doing all the things my therapist says, breathing in and out, imagining the text message was placed into a balloon and going up into the sky. It’s not helping. In my visualization the balloon pops and crashes down over my head and my breathing in and out turns rapid and ragged after the count of three.
Last night I received a text message that someone wanted me to “debrief” something that happened over a month ago. I said sure and said I could call right then and there. Even though I was driving, even though my puppy had just spent 20 hours in the emergency room after being bit by a rattlesnake and laying on his deathbed (he’s ok now and sleeping beside me as I type these words.) It’s almost 24 hours since we got the text and we still haven’t talked. I’m checking my phone constantly, hoping for an update. Because with each minute that passes when we don’t have a conversation my thoughts turn darker and darker.
She said she couldn’t and all hell broke loose. Before I knew it “We Need to Talk” became, “here are all the things you did wrong” becomes “I really dislike you as a person” became “I hate you as a person” became “everyone you interacted with when we were together hates you” became “we are all still talking about why we hate you” became “I am telling everyone i know I hate you and particularly reaching out to anyone who knows the both of us to turn your friends away from you” became “you are literally the worst person on earth and if you weren’t so smart/successful/helpful/necessary than I would never come close to you ever again.” became “you should really just kill yourself.” And within two hours I was pulled over on the side of the road, near tears, trying to find the big dipper in the desert sky for some form of comfort.
Crazy right? Ha! Get it!? It IS crazy. Because I AM crazy. Because I have a mental illness. Because I have bipolar disorder. And with the bipolar disorder comes is an obsessive attachment to thoughts and, in many cases, negative thoughts about oneself. The grandiosity of my thoughts leads me to believe that, yes, I am SINGULARLY the worst person in the world (narcissistic, I know, I mean Paul Ryan is way worse) and the speed at which they come at me makes them very very hard to control.
I’m not asking you to tip toe around me or pretend I’m perfect (trust me, I know I am not). But I do ask you to respect what I may need because of my diagnosis and the way I am. Because I’m starting to learn this about myself I knew the consequences of not having the aforementioned conversation about needing to “debrief” within a few minutes of receiving the text would be very very bad. I communicated that to the person who had texted me but they indicated they wouldn’t be available until the following day to chat. Today I said I was free until 5pm but, again, they aren’t free until later tonight. So I’m stuck obsessing about it all day, pushing aside other work, walking my pup in circles. Literally in a rut in my mind no matter how I try and push it out.
So, yeah, today has been pretty rough.
Things like this happen to everyone, I know. And other people are much better at “getting over it” than I am or “don’t make such a big deal: about things. But I’m done blaming and hating myself for not being able to do things the same as other people. Because my obsessive rushing fast as lightning brain is a wonderful thing when I can turn out research papers and legal arguments and rap versus (I am a pretty great freestyler for a white girl, ask the college kids I was mentoring last month). But once it has a negative thought to latch on to, whoa nelly, watch out.
This is why it’s incredibly important and useful and helpful that if you’re going to tell me (it’s always better to ask but especially if you are just going to tell me) that we “need to talk” that you are ready to do it right there and then to help me stop the freight train that is my mind.
I get that this is largely on me. My mental diagnosis is mine to deal with and bare and I certainly don’t expect you to hold the brunt of its weight. However. The reasons I kick ass and you may want to work with me or be friends with me are often tied into the reasons I am a pain in the butt. So once you do know about my diagnosis (there has to be some benefit from being so open about it right?) and if you do choose to still work with/engage with/partner with me (because it’s a choice you do make) than I do need you to respect my health and what I may need. If you have the time and space to tell me that something I did bothered you than you need to also have the time and space to discuss it with me. I think this may even be a good tactic for the people in your life who don’t have bipolar disorder but I’m not in their mind so I don’t know.
Sadly, this has also been exploited in my past so I’m hyper-sensitive to people who know what I need and can’t or won’t respect that it’s a thing. I once had a boss who scheduled a meeting with me saying she “had some concerns she needed to talk about.” Three days later she said to me, point blank, “you do really good work but everyone in the office has come in to complain about you and doesn’t like working with you.” I later found out it wasn’t true, that she put targets on the backs of employees she found threatening and struck them like a snake when she saw an area of weakness. But but man was that hard to shake. It was all my worst fears come true. And yes that person was horrible and exploitative and fired the year after I left, but it’s not as if that makes the incident go away.
I’m closing with the words from a bipolar blogger (it’s a thing!) whose sentiments are exactly mine right now:
Let’s hope.
Much love, Lauren
PS. Sorry to all the people who said I would get things to today when I’ve been obsessing about this instead. I’m on it, promise. Please don’t hate me :)
