The Constant Cycles Of My Bipolar Mind

By the time someone has told me how much they really like or dislike something, there is a good chance that I have already had 50 different emotions plays out within my head. My thoughts race beyond my control, making it is nearly impossible for my hands and mouth to keep up. It can make writing and speaking feel like something that I am unable to conquer at times, and to know this gets really difficult for my me, with because writing is a piece of who I am. It is what I love more than life itself. I find it difficult to find the words I am looking for because my mind and my hands are at constant odds with one another.

One minute I feel like I am drowning, the next I may feel like I am on top of the world and nothing could ever bring me back down… until it does. Then whatever I am feeling at that moment, will hit me like a ton of bricks and all of a sudden, I am falling again. This stuff is just not right. 

For a brief moment, I may see things so vibrantly colorful and filled with light, and then they disappear from me and turn bleak and listless. Everything with a bipolar person is at extreme opposites and at constant war. It’s a struggle to even be able to make a simple decision. I hate love, yet I love life. How is that even possible?

Just the other day, I felt incredibly low until someone made one nice comment to me, here on my blog; all of a sudden I was radiating positivity. I felt light, I was helping others again. Then something happened, but I’m not even sure what, and depression started to suck me back down to its depths. Now, I feel lost and I don’t know why. How do you get lost, when you haven’t even been found?

I have been seriously thinking about posting bits and pieces of my articles on here since I found out that they have pretty much been slaughtering everything that I have written. Twisting my words until they are no longer my own. My personal thoughts and emotions have dissipated and the hard work, time, and dedication I have put into every single one of my articles have ceased to exist. 

I feel like I have been busting my ass for absolutely nothing. I feel like to total shitty writer, and like nothing I ever make could ever possibly make any sense to anyone. I guess I am just feeling slightly discouraged is all. #writersissues 

I feel like no matter how many steps I take forward, I am always falling too far behind. I lack motivation. I lack the necessary skills to make it in this demanding world. To be honest, I dropped out of high school in 10th grade, got my GED, bounced around from college to college because I could never figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was able to stick it out and graduate from Lincoln Technical Institute with a degree as a Medical Assistant because I thought the health care field was somewhere I should be working.

All I have ever wanted to do was write, and I suck at it. I have absolutely no grammar skills or abilities. My vocabulary is rather limited. What makes sense to me, makes decisively no sense to anyone else. I am uneducated. My typing speeds are something comparative to a toddler. I just cannot catch a break, and believe me, I could go on.

Okay, so yeah, maybe I am being a bit too daunting towards myself now, but like I mentioned earlier, I am just feeling really discouraged. And I mean, really discouraged.

This is what I am referring too by The Constant Cycles Of My Bipolar Mind  I can surge from feeling I am an the brink of depression, then feel like I am on the verge of mania, then flatline to the feelings of being baseline, and then do it all over all again.

It’s a daily battle living with this disorder and never knowing what to truly expect, or never knowing what versions of Samantha I am going to get. I once had a co-worker make a very public post about me on social media. She said:

“If you are bipolar and you are going to try to kill yourself, what side of yourself are you trying to kill? Your sad self? Or your happy self?

I am not quite sure why, but that just popped into my head. But she posted that about me after I was admitted to a psychiatric ward, well before I was comfortable talking about and sharing my mental illness journey. What I would like to say to her today, is that thank you. Your arrogance made me more comfortable in talking about my mental illness in the long run. And to answer your question, it was both sides… I wanted to kill both sides because they were talking too loud..