mania

I
don’t take my medications like I’m supposed to. My bipolar disorder is
mild, and the medications (some of them) are expensive. At least the
ones without the ridiculous side effects. So I split pills into pieces,
and I skip days. Sometimes too many days. I hate them, but I know I’m
going to spend the rest of my life taking them, even if I skip days and
take less than I’m supposed to.

And I’ll have days where I feel
like I can accomplish anything. I’ll make plans for the future like
going back to school. And come up with cool painting projects that I’ll
never finish. And post forty Facebook posts in a span of two hours
because everything is funny and beautiful and I want to share the things
I enjoy with the people I enjoy.

And sometimes, sometimes on
that very same day, I struggle to wake up or stay awake. And I’m too
complacent in doing nothing to even play a video game or watch a movie.
And nothing makes me feel good. Nothing makes me feel. And I realize
that I’ve been making goals and plans and I’m avoiding time alone, and
oh good gods I’m in over my head.

And I feel too much and nothing
at all, all at the same time. I cry at videos of good things happening
to people and animals on the internet. And I drown in my bitterness of
not being able to change situations that I’d like to improve in my life.

And I worry about the memories my children will have of me when they
are older because I’m not good at expressing joy… Or feeling it.

I get mad at myself for not singing and dancing because I’ve let
traumatic situations & abusive people allow me to shrink in shame
instead of embracing my shine.

And while I don’t have suicidal
ideation anymore (I’ll have to stay off meds a while for that to come
back), I sometimes want to disappear and not tell anyone where I’m
going. And wonder what, if anything, could truly make me HAPPY.

I’m sometimes too honest about things, but there is also so much that is
bottled up inside that sometimes my body literally physically aches
from the stress and anxiety. My sternum feels like it’s going to
implode.

And I can’t cope with my own mental illness, but I’m
also supposed to deal with a household full of people also struggling
with their own demons.

So I wonder what my breaking point is while at the same time refusing to give up, and it’s fucking exhausting.

And today is one of those days where everything feels too heavy. But
it’s okay because this year I am going to sing and dance, and my shine
is mine, and I’m going to fight people who try to steal the little bit
of joy that I do possess because it is precious, and it’s no one else’s
to take.