Frying Up
Mood Rating: 7/10
Earlier this evening - or last night now - Stephen Fry's new documentary was shown on BBC Two. He's decided to chart his bipolar journey on camera and has roped in a few celebrities to help dispel the sterotype that goes with mental illness.
I have to say, he spoke to a couple of ordinary, everyday people who I would call 'mad'. I'm fortunate in that I don't suffer with hallucinations; at least not yet. Fry interviewed the likes of Carrie Fisher, Robbie Williams and Tony Slattery. Of all of the celebrities, I most identified with Fry himself. I believe that both he and I could fly under the bipolar radar in everyday life. To the untrained eye we appear 'normal' and can function satisfactorally under the watchful gaze of friends and family most of the time.
However, as Stephen Fry found out, it appears to be quite a progressive illness. I don't think that that is mentioned in any medical advice that is readily available, but I've certainly noticed an increase in the cycles.
Now that I know that I have bipolar, I can look back and identify past manic episodes. I believe the first one happened when I was around 14 - a little before my 15th birthday. Unlike the episodes which followed, I know exactly what triggered the 14-year-old 'high'. It's nothing that I wish to discuss, but it was certainly a turning point in my life.
Latter day episodes appear to be triggered by strong relaionship-type periods in my life. Although I've been with my partner since 1995, we've had breaks where we've persued other relationships. One such relationship occurred when I was 19. It was doomed from the start and I ended up sliding down a wall crying. I truly believed that I was having a nervous breakdown.
As I understand, most, if not all, bipolar sufferers will bleat about the manic times being fantastic, which they are. You feel that everyone you know has shared their confidence levels with you and that you're the happiest person alive. I read an article today where one woman described it as, "...being like a child on Christmas morning, times 5," and that's no lie. In general, I am agoraphobic, but when I'm manic I can take on the world and his wife. I can shop alone, walk alone, do whatever I feel like.... alone. It's liberating. Sadly, with the highs come terrible, crippling, suicidal lows.
Although I'm no expert, I'm of the opinion (and I am agreeing with something Fry said) that bipolaroids (that's me and Carrie, Stephen, Robbie and Tony to you) attempt suicide with the intention of it working, rather than play at it as a cry for help. My attempt was unsuccessful, but I meant every slice. I don't fear death, although I do fear pain. At the moment, I don't wish to die, but I wouldn't mind not waking up. Death is truly an easier option than living with this 'thing'.
What I find so difficult is that bipolar disorder is so very selfish. I'm fine in a manic episode, I just want to share my happiness with everyone. It's the lows that are selfish. It's not that you don't care about anyone else, the fact is you just cannot even THINK about anyone but yourself. My husband asked if I'd written a suicide note, but the thought didn't even cross my mind. I was in no fit state to consider who I was leavng behind - people that do indeed deserve an explanation - I just wanted out. I dispise selfishness, yet I can be so incredibly selfish all because of my mind, or maybe what it's lacking.
Sometimes I feel as though if I could just remove my brain, give it a good rinse with cold water, pat it dry and return it to its rightful place, everything would be just peachy. If only it were that easy. Living with something which is incurable is a daily chore. Although I'm pretty level at the moment, the next cycle could be just around the corner. In fact, I'm off out on Thursday night, and I can feel myself beginning to bubble. I'm on the boil at present, but will I be able to remove myself from the heat before I boil and spill? That remains to be seen.
Earlier this evening - or last night now - Stephen Fry's new documentary was shown on BBC Two. He's decided to chart his bipolar journey on camera and has roped in a few celebrities to help dispel the sterotype that goes with mental illness.
I have to say, he spoke to a couple of ordinary, everyday people who I would call 'mad'. I'm fortunate in that I don't suffer with hallucinations; at least not yet. Fry interviewed the likes of Carrie Fisher, Robbie Williams and Tony Slattery. Of all of the celebrities, I most identified with Fry himself. I believe that both he and I could fly under the bipolar radar in everyday life. To the untrained eye we appear 'normal' and can function satisfactorally under the watchful gaze of friends and family most of the time.
However, as Stephen Fry found out, it appears to be quite a progressive illness. I don't think that that is mentioned in any medical advice that is readily available, but I've certainly noticed an increase in the cycles.
Now that I know that I have bipolar, I can look back and identify past manic episodes. I believe the first one happened when I was around 14 - a little before my 15th birthday. Unlike the episodes which followed, I know exactly what triggered the 14-year-old 'high'. It's nothing that I wish to discuss, but it was certainly a turning point in my life.
Latter day episodes appear to be triggered by strong relaionship-type periods in my life. Although I've been with my partner since 1995, we've had breaks where we've persued other relationships. One such relationship occurred when I was 19. It was doomed from the start and I ended up sliding down a wall crying. I truly believed that I was having a nervous breakdown.
As I understand, most, if not all, bipolar sufferers will bleat about the manic times being fantastic, which they are. You feel that everyone you know has shared their confidence levels with you and that you're the happiest person alive. I read an article today where one woman described it as, "...being like a child on Christmas morning, times 5," and that's no lie. In general, I am agoraphobic, but when I'm manic I can take on the world and his wife. I can shop alone, walk alone, do whatever I feel like.... alone. It's liberating. Sadly, with the highs come terrible, crippling, suicidal lows.
Although I'm no expert, I'm of the opinion (and I am agreeing with something Fry said) that bipolaroids (that's me and Carrie, Stephen, Robbie and Tony to you) attempt suicide with the intention of it working, rather than play at it as a cry for help. My attempt was unsuccessful, but I meant every slice. I don't fear death, although I do fear pain. At the moment, I don't wish to die, but I wouldn't mind not waking up. Death is truly an easier option than living with this 'thing'.
What I find so difficult is that bipolar disorder is so very selfish. I'm fine in a manic episode, I just want to share my happiness with everyone. It's the lows that are selfish. It's not that you don't care about anyone else, the fact is you just cannot even THINK about anyone but yourself. My husband asked if I'd written a suicide note, but the thought didn't even cross my mind. I was in no fit state to consider who I was leavng behind - people that do indeed deserve an explanation - I just wanted out. I dispise selfishness, yet I can be so incredibly selfish all because of my mind, or maybe what it's lacking.
Sometimes I feel as though if I could just remove my brain, give it a good rinse with cold water, pat it dry and return it to its rightful place, everything would be just peachy. If only it were that easy. Living with something which is incurable is a daily chore. Although I'm pretty level at the moment, the next cycle could be just around the corner. In fact, I'm off out on Thursday night, and I can feel myself beginning to bubble. I'm on the boil at present, but will I be able to remove myself from the heat before I boil and spill? That remains to be seen.
posted by Bipolar Bear at 12:07 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home