**warning: this post contains heavy, potentially triggering topics such as mental illness and suicide. Continue reading at your own discretion.
The suicide rates for bipolar disorder are distinctly high. Researchers estimate that between 25% and 60% of bipolar patients attempt suicide at least once in their lives, and 4% to 19% will succeed.
In my head exists a delusion– or perhaps it is more of an omen, a prophecy. The narrative is as follows: Belicia, you will never live to experience old age. You will never live to see your children or grandchildren grow up. One of these days, you will end your own life. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even years from now… but it will happen eventually. Because one day, the pain of living with bipolar will simply be too much to handle. That’s when you know it is time to end it.
Dark, yes? But I just wanted to share with you guys the reality of living with bipolar. Sometimes, the perpetual ups and downs are just too much. Just when you feel that you’re doing better, the depression hits like a truck. It seems as if the universe is playing a cruel joke on you. I might just as well be dead, than experience these ups and downs any longer.
The following are a compilation of quotes from other people living with bipolar.
“The total body energy rushes, floating joy, brilliant confidence, sadistic sexual compulsions and delusions in euphoric mania… the total collapse/breakdown of mind and body in depression, when you feel like you’re dying, suddenly rocking, crying and shaking, muttering the same words over and over and over in a trance, begging God to kill you. This isn’t hyperbole, THIS is bipolar.”
Here’s a somewhat more optimistic description of the illness:
“I’m bipolar, and during my manic episodes I have gone more than 72 hours without sleep, my social skills are superior, I can solve complex tasks way faster, everything makes sense, information rearranges itself in your head and it’s there to serve you in the most precise useful way, creativity is unstoppable, I have ended up with ideas written all over my body from trying to stem that flow of ideas. During manic episode I can hit on any girl in the world, and I’m so confident that it works, every time, it’s like being on cocaine, you are sharp, enchanting, curious… it’s limitless. but depressive lows are so strong, and so hellish that it’s worth sacrificing the manic episodes in return of getting rid of the depressive lows through medication. It’s not an easy life to be bipolar, but it sure is a such more intense life. Because of this I sometimes consider my condition a blessing, I get to see a wider spectrum of life through a bipolar perception.”
Mania is not what it’s cut out to be:
“It’s a misconception that the high energy weeks are better than the depressive weeks. While you personally feel much better when you’re on highs, you can’t sleep and you’re so excited that your thoughts make your soul want to scream. I don’t know how to explain it other than that. It’s… interesting. But it’s a learning experience.”
So there’s a little insight into the sad reality of living with bipolar. I am in no ways posting this to elicit pity. I simply wish to educate others with hopes of destigmatizing this scary illness.
I wish I had the courage to live. I wish I had the mental strength to go on. I am in a happy place right now, but I do not know how long it will last. I know that, one of these days, I will fall back into the pits of depression. One day, I won’t be able to climb out of the trenches of hell. And that’s when things will end, and the sweet release of death will come.