Backpacking and Bipolar II. Taking Manic Depression on tour.
#Psychosis #Bipolar #Mentalillness #breakthestigma #Agitation #Rage #Irritability
Last night I woke up and I was immediately furious. One of my friend’s had begun to hang around with one of my sworn enemies, knowing that it would hurt me. I was glowing white hot with fear, anger and I felt hurt down to my bones.
In times-gone-by I would have reacted instantly and decisively to this situation. I would have disowned my friend, and looked for an opportunity to visit some kind of violence on my enemy if they were close enough that I could get them. If not, I would have spewn vitriol at whoever was close enough to hear and pace around for a few hours.
These people are on the other side of the planet. The perceived slight against me had been in my dream and had left me enough of an emotional wreck that I had woken up intent on tackling the issue head on, pre-emptively. I was about to disown one of my closest friends from something that I had completely imagined. I sat and told myself, out loud, that “it hadn’t even happened. What the hell are you upset for?!”
I recognised the feeling of hurt, embarrassment, betrayal and rage as having featured heavily in my past. I can remember lots of specific examples of when I had felt like this. It was known among my friends growing up that you only had one chance with me and that once you had incensed me, that was it. Friendship – finished. I had absolutely no problem cutting people off at the knees.
I know people who are still probably wondering where it all went wrong between us. I have one who is still trying his best to re-initiate contact with me through Facebook. I can remember what upset me and I can remember reacting (probably over reacting). Truthfully though I can’t say that I am 100% confident anymore that what I saw as an insult was even intended to come in my direction. This isn’t a lonely example.
I can remember times when I reacted violently and emotionally to what I thought were attacks on me; I can also remember EVERYONE else involved being utterly mystified as to why I had exploded. Thinking logically about these times, I am absolutely certain that I was reacting to completely imagined slights against me, just as I had last night.
If I was to dwell on the past, I’m sure I could come up with dozens of names who I owed an apology to. My close friends put up with a lot of questionable behaviour, often turbo charged with alcohol. Though it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one – last night’s revelation is a turning point for me. I’ve never yet backed away from acting on that specific cocktail of emotions. I have ALWAYS followed my instinct in that situation. What I realise now is that I’ve probably been reacting to fiction as often as I’ve reacted to fact.
Do you identify with anything I’ve written? Have you ever gone off completely half-cocked and come to realise after the fact? Did you apologise? How was it received? I want to hear from you.
All the best,