Unfortunately telling someone your bipolar isn't easy. I was embarrassed, ashamed, I felt like I needed to cover it up. I had days where I was genuinely happy. I was living. I was always going out, life of the party, always talking and making people laugh. On those days it was high energy miranda.
THE LIFE I WAS HIDING
I would hide away, screening phone calls and not answering texts. I wouldn't even answer the door. The thing with that though I knew I couldn't hide forever. I needed to go to work, I needed to go out and make appearances at birthdays and weddings. I put on a mask, and damn I was good at it. The only miranda people saw was "happy" full of life. A person who had their shit together. The way that I lived by hiding away and wearing a mask, it led to frustration, resentment, and anger. I never felt like I was actually living. Everyday had turned into a struggle for me, since the minute I got up to the minute I went to bed. Everything that I could possibly worry about I did. It would start when I got up, something as simple as getting ready for work I would be shaking just getting dressed and then it would just spiral out of control from there. Racing thoughts and endless worries had stolen me from the front row of my own life. Something so simple as going to the store, the bank or especially shows. If someone was walking towards me I would panic. I didn't know if I should look at them and say hi or look down and try to get a glance. What if they look and I'd look at the last minute. If I don't say hi will I offend them? By the end of the day I'd be totally exhausted. For me my mania led me to be creative. Yes who wouldn't want to be creative? It was honestly great... it was perfect but even though it disguised one problem it just created more as it followed. To be honest it was bull shit. After a couple of days of being on top of the world suddenly just dropped and I found myself at the bottom drowning. Being at the bottom filled me with insecurities. I had lost every ounce of confidence. It was pure torture. Getting a glimpse of amazing things that I wanted to do and that I think I can do and then..I found myself in a place where I couldn't even grasp at maintaining any of them. It led me to feelings of depression, sadness and defeat. On top of all that constantly being asked by my parents or being forced to talk to them was always something that pushed me over the edge and it led to me taking my frustration out on them. I remember trying to open up to them and something in me just snapped. I was looking them both straight in the eyes and telling them to leave me to die, or don't be surprised if you you find me dead the next morning. I really did think, that if I could take all my chaos..all my pain and misery and head off to a quiet town then my family and my friends would be better off. If I wasn't hurting myself, I was doing everything possible to hurt them and destroy what was left of our relationship because I thought they would be better off. Don't get me wrong not everyone stayed by my side, but those that did they pushed me to get help. I never thought that I'd reach that limit to get help. I just selfishly assumed they would always be my punching bag.
I WAS A TRAIN WRECK
I was a train wreck on the break of losing everything. I was down 45 pounds. I locked myself up in my room and day after day I just cried. This crying though I was balling like I never had before and for no reason. My thoughts wouldn't stop racing. I can't even comprehend to why my life just stopped. It took the fear of losing my life...losing my family to get to a place where I was willing to go and get help. I remember the day I went to the DRS. I was in a complete panic. I was an adult on my way to tell another adult that I was a wreck.. that even on some days if anything, the only thing that I could do was brush my teeth and put my clothes on. After meeting and talking to my DR. they were going to have me meet with a psychiatrist. My thoughts spun wildly and negative. Self-talk raced, I hated being there. My mood worsened as they walked me through a path of another building. It came clear where I was headed. I'd have to say the panic was sinking in as I sat in the waiting room and waited to be seen. At this point I've seen enough DRS and personally I never felt like they truly listened to me. It was always questions "how do you feel" or "think". I'm just sitting there like what do you think I think I'm feeling a lot of pain. But it was my psychiatrist I will not disclose his name but he saved me. I went and told him my story and after listening to me he just looked up and said "I believe your manic-depressive and I'm going to put you on medication. He truly did save me, because at least I knew there was a name for something that was going on with me and that my DR could give me the medication and treatment to get better. I didn't get better right away but eventually I was okay, I was me. Let's put it this way when I'm on my medication I do well. When I'm not on it, I don't. I get tempted here and there to get off of it because I think I'm doing good but it's just false hope. It's so scary to take a chance, so that's why I stay on my medication. I always want help. I'm good at knowing there's something wrong with me and I'm not just talking about bipolar. I'm just talking in general. How I feel inside, I don't like to feel the ugliness that eats at me so I try my best to fix it. As I learn to talk about it and be more open about it with family and friends, Iv been told devastating stories of people going through the same thing that didn't make it to get help. In those types of moments you need to stop thinking about yourself and try to help another person. So after that I continued to try and talk about it more, even complete strangers started reaching out to me and the more that it happened, that is when I started to create "Detached. clothing." To me that means more then anything, if I can save someone from doing something and get help well that's amazing. Before you go through a episode or a breakdown I think it's important to know the signs. For me the signs were a feeling of a high, feeling nothing in this world could touch me. There was nothing I couldn't do. Your thoughts start racing, your obsessive thoughts start racing. You can't stop it. Very emotional, crying for no reason, and I'm talking about balling like a child. Feeling you could read people's mind, that's the thing I did a lot. If you start feeling those symptoms you truly need to get help, truly get help.