Most (not all) people with bipolar disorder tend to have trouble accepting their diagnosis. They will often go on their meds which help to stabilize their moods and then they get bored as fuck because they’re so used to the rush of mania.
Andrew recently posted this meme on Facebook and I love him for it:
Bipolar people are my favourite kinds of people because life is never dull. It’s never dull, and I’m the type of person that is strong and secure enough to roll with it and learn new things, acquire new tools and skills and enjoy the personal growth that accompanies such challenges.
When I dated Jason in high school, I told my grad class that if Jason ever changed his mind, that I’d go for Chris Farley. And if he didn’t make it through the night then I’d hunt down Jim Carey, who also had bipolar disorder.
There should be a quote out there that goes like this: Bipolar Disorder comes, straight-arms all of life’s annoying preconceived notions and prejudices, gets Jesus to turn the water into wine and the pantsuits into sultry sundresses, gets everyone knocked up, and leaves. In a hot air balloon. To a country made of cotton candy. Promising to return with millions of dollars, an expensive pair of perfectly fitted jeans and a deep freeze full of organic free range chicken.
See how easy it is to love them?
The water into wine gets me every single time.
It’s common for people with bipolar disorder to quit their meds, chase their mania (it feels amazing) and end up in hospital again. Totally and completely normal. As normal as it would be for a kid with asthma to end up in emerg a few times after a tough soccer game or a track meet.
Eventually, so I’m told, we all (hopefully) get to the point where we accept the situation we are in (whatever sitch that may be) and we are able to move forward. Sometimes it takes a while, maybe even some back roads and a hot air balloon ride or two but eventually, we’ll get there. And we’ll have fun doing it.
Have you ever been in a hot air balloon?
Would you rather have one really nice pair of perfectly fitting jeans, or a deep freeze filled with organic free range chicken?