Post-Party Crash

This past Wednesday, I had what would be considered a mental crack. Not a complete breakdown, but I had broken down throughout the day. Waking up on my day off, I had experienced a series of fluxes in my emotions that all lead up to me feeling empty and overflowing with tears. You may be wondering why or even when did I figure out that I was mentally cracking. Through the tears and anguish, I had begun to search out, to figuring out the reasons why. Why was I so damn sad when everything around me has been going well? Why was I feeling so empty that mustering the feeling of being "full" was a difficult task, especially in the things that had been going very well for me?

As I continue to navigate through my Bipolar Disorder, I have found that I experience new things about the disorder daily. When the highs occur, it's an infinite time of euphoria that I hold onto for as long as it occurs; excusing the fact that the "low" is, indeed... low. This particular instance was that, however, during the lowness, I was able to discover some harsh truths about various situations that has been happening as of recent.

Relationships, in particular, have been the forefront of my sadness. My baby sister had gotten proposed to over the week and while I was extremely excited about the new venture in which her life was about to take place; I was sad. Crying tears and masking them as happiness, I realized that my mental disorder would make every relationship I am in, difficult. Meetups would be planned only later for me to essentially "ghost" the event. While my intentions are always good, the mental "fog" had engulfed the will to pursue whatever that is planned. Only when my manic period happens do I venture out and make those plans happen.

While the idea of what "love" is has continue to be a question that I have tried to answer with every interaction that I have with people; feeling invincible allows to me to speak free where otherwise I would be silent. No filter occurring, I am allowing those thoughts to escape when I would other wise stop them from creating situations in which I don't want to be in or talk to people I would otherwise walk past down the street. Mania, in essence, had personified itself and I, now, dealt with a whole entire part of myself that I would close off to the outside world. Imagine the Mall of America, during Black Friday sales, on a Saturday, of thoughts that happens everyday in my mind. With the splash of Mania, It's the rush hour traffic coming into the Mall, cars filled with sexually-charged teenagers ranging from 14 to 23, on ecstasy. The idea of relationships or long-term ones are the furthest thing in their minds and certainly in mines as well so why the feel of emptiness?

The "normal" part of myself aches for a healthy, stable relationship, one which would lead to marriage—yet that idea leaves me worried. Asking, "Is there anyone on this planet that can handle my crazy?" is normally overshadowed by acts in which don't allow me to let people in long enough for me to consider. Animal-like nature has given the manic part of myself comfort in knowing that the outcome of the situation will always leave me the same. Fulfilled for a short time, lonely for the long term. A continued cycle in which my mind has been entering and exiting for years.

Friendships, intimacy, family... there have been numerous turmoils in situations that people had suffered by the hands of my bipolar and mania had only continue to push the severity of those outcomes in my face. Like an active volcano, the emotional baggage had been pushed up to the surface and erupted at the very same time that the Manic one was already overflowing. The week had been a mental disaster and the period of Mania had abruptly ended to where I was then in therapy, breaking down in tears while smile in the face of my shrink. The fast and orgasmic "high" of Mania has stopped, the party had ended quickly and I was faced with the realness of the downside of bipolar: depression.