Love Me Bipolar
I think one of the most misunderstood moods of someone suffering from bipolar, is the depression. Bipolar is a mental illness, not a state of mind. There are many treatment options, but there is no cure.
When someone with bipolar disorder is suffering from an episode, whether it is mania, depression, or anything in between, they need support. Sometimes, therapy isn’t enough.
I have bipolar disorder. I live with it every day. I have my good days, as we all do, but I also have my bad days, and those bad days are the days I need the most help. There are a lot of people who do not know I have bipolar, so when I am depressed, and if I let it show, I often have people try to ‘help’ me. And, I often get that same kind of ‘help’ from the people who do know of my illness. It is everywhere, and it is unavoidable. But all it takes is for one supporter who understands, to make my day.
Depression is horrible, it is a monster, it gets in the brain, and it hates to leave. The last thing we need to hear when we are like that is those little things people say to help. Things like ‘you just need to get out more’ or ‘you wouldn’t be depressed if you got a job’, or my personal favorites, ‘cheer up’ and ‘just snap out of it.’ None of these help me. I know what my moods are like, I know what helps me, and hearing you tell me to cheer up isn’t one of my treatment options. Do you see what I mean? I already feel bad enough, plus the guilt of knowing how my moods are affecting those around me; I don’t need all the extra stress of basically being told to ‘rush’ my healing by trying your suggestions. If I could snap out of it, if I could change the way I feel, don’t you think I would have by now? Who would choose to be like this?
When I get depressed, I feel tired and ugly; doing the dishes or putting on makeup seems impossible, I eat and eat, and gain weight and don’t care. Depression hurts. I feel heartbroken, for no reason. I linger on thoughts of the past. I cry. I shower or bathe often, as if I can wash away the fatigue. I find it hard to get out of bed, and once I have, I count the hours until I can call it a day and crawl back under the covers. I try to sleep away my sorrows. I can’t cook, so much as microwaving leftovers seems like too much effort.
What, you may ask, can you do to help? Accept me. Love me bipolar. I have bipolar, it is not me. Underneath the depression, I am still human, and I do have feelings other than those dished out to me by a shorted out brain function. So when you see me down, don’t tell me to cheer up, just feel for me, for I am suffering. Do the dishes for me. Stop me from trying to shower away the pain. Let me eat ice cream, and tell me I’m beautiful. Don’t touch me, I don’t need you clinging, but do hug me. If I seem alright, but my eyes are sad, ask me if I am crying on the inside, ask me if I hurt. Don’t tell me that you understand because you were once depressed, unless you have this illness, you don’t really understand. Just accept me the way I am, don’t hate me because the house is messy, because I feel worse than you know.
Love me, bipolar and all.
Tags: Bipolar, depression, loving bipolar
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