Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Living In Utter Seclusion

Usually when people are injured or in need of help, others gather around to help. Bipolar is one of those things that people tend to run from. When the dust settles, I often find myself standing alone. “We have to keep those crazy people away from us” is the mentality.
When someone is moody or irritable, it’s usually dismissed as a bad day. If someone has a lot of bad days, I’ll sometimes hear “he’s probably bipolar.” People have said this to me not knowing about me and my issues. Over time, I’ve learned to manipulate the way the world sees me.


When I’m feeling up and manic, I surround myself with people. I can feel them feed off of my energy. Strangers become instant friends and my friends just laugh and call me crazy. These are the times where I walk through a mall leaving happy faces behind.

When I’m down, I try to seclude myself. It’s not always possible as work and obligations sometimes force me to be around others. Many times I can fake it and pretend to be happy or at least not let on that I’m sad. There is a lot of excuse making: “I’m tired and not feeling well.” And when the pressure builds, I sometimes have to let a little of me out.

When asked to go out with friends and be social, my first instinct is to say “no.” Close friends know this about me and they’ll typically give me all of the details well in advance. At these events, I’m usually fine because I’ll whip myself into a frenzy beforehand. Even with this, I need a safety spot or a way out just in case I start to crash. The crashes are more predictable than not but I have been caught off-guard; and the consequences are disastrous.
There are very few places I feel safe; about the only place I’m safe to crash is at home. When I am forced to go out, I am typically in a state of panic. Not out the outside, but I can feel it building on the inside. And I try not to let too much of me out. If I let it slip, people see it as frustration.

If I have to leave the house at 4pm, for instance, I’ll schedule to start getting ready at 3pm. A shower is almost always in order, even if I showered two hours previously. At 3pm, I’ll rationalize I can wait until 3:15. At 3:15, I’ll begin straightening up. I’ll typically get in the shower at 3:35pm which I know is cutting it close. By the time I shave, get clothes ready, and get out the door, it’s after 4pm which stresses me out even more. I often leave the house in a rage and driving as if the cars in front of me caused it.

I’ve learned from that past, that the world is not a safe place for me to be. It’s not that I don’t trust the world or the people in it, I don’t trust myself.
I’m not unstable where I’ll suddenly snap and leave a pile of bodies in my wake, but I’m not sane enough to be out there. I’ve learned that out there isn’t safe for me. When I’m manic, the world is a musical and everyone sings along. When I’m on a low, people have been known to give me the hug of death Caesar received.

When I do go out, it’s about self preservation. While in the car, I can spread all of my stuff out. It usually stays on the front seat where I can see it. If it’s not within eyeshot, I’ll usually check on it. When I get to where I’m going, I’ll contain my possessions in a small back pack or a man purse; don’t laugh, Indiana Jones had one.

Even if at a best friend’s house, I find a safe place for my things and a safe place for myself. Even good friends have broken my trust. I’ve learned to keep my guard up around everyone. And I mean everyone. 

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