…and I’ve sent pictures of them…to women, to men. I hope you don’t feel special.
I have morals, but my clinically diagnosed Manic Bipolar I Disorder doesn’t. Her name is Camii, and I try not to talk about her, but she’s quite vocal on her own. I have this spirit of spontaneity, obnoxiousness and boldness that overcomes me at times. I have a love hate relationship with myself usually daily. I’ve always known that the way my mind operates is abnormal, but didn’t know what to do about it.
I tried the medication thing: Lamictal in conjunction with Abilify and then Xanax for anxiety. It was extremely tiring feeling dependent on medication. What if I forgot one night? What if I stayed out too late to take it at the same time I do normally? I was in college; what if I wanted to drink that night? On top of that, I hated how it made me feel….I was TOO normal. It helped for quite some time, but after a while, I felt like it wasn’t helping much at all, and my significant other told me, “You don’t need that stuff. As long as you’re with me you’re fine. The only time you trip is when we’re not together, and I’m not going anywhere,” as if she was the cure to my mental disorder. She triggered my mania more than she made me sane. But needless to say, I trusted her and I stopped taking it. Things were going fairly well in my life at the time, so I stopped and said I would depend on God to deliver me.
Shortly after I stopped taking my medication, she broke up with me, and the events of the break up (just as I was in the last semester of my classes before graduation) ruined me. I started acting a fool, doing/saying things I normally wouldn’t and being extremely impulsive. Some impulses were good, though. I could accomplish all of my work, clean my house top to bottom, type a 15 page paper in a day, fill out 20 applications, do something super exciting, or do a good deed for someone. However, my negative impulsivities are the worst part of the illness. I’d get filled with energy and could become:
- Sex crazed
- Alcohol driven
- Physically/verbally violent
- Have random, inappropriate outbursts
- Go into bouts of impulsive spending (with no regard to my obligations)
- Go mute
Basically just make very irrational decisions and have no conscience about them until I come down from my “high”. Sometimes trip down is worse because you go from feeling like you can conquer the world to feeling like you’re nothing at all or that you’d rather not live. I got to a point where there was nothing left to do but keep myself away from the things that triggered my emotions.
When my girlfriend dumped me, I was down and out a long time. It was the most pivotal moment of my illness to date. I cried non-stop, aloud the first 3 days and didn’t move from my couch or shower. I barely ate, I sat in the dark, I didn’t go to classes for 2 weeks, I rejected contact with the outside world as much as I possibly could. I literally wanted to die. After it was over, I made the decision not to take her back and to move away. I knew it was key to regaining my sanity. So, I came home, got my life right with God (best I could), got a job and got my own place so I could focus on me and what makes me happy.
So what does this have to do with my boobs? Well, I know that my stories are going to bless many people some day. I know that one day, I may even become famous for being so transparent about my life. But I don’t want celebrity, I just want to be notable. I just want to be effective. I just want to be helpful to someone going through what I’ve been through…and with notoriety comes HATERS. Soooooo……….
At least if I become famous and some hater tries to expose me on TMZ by calling my crazy and bragging about how they knew me and that I sent them naked pictures, you already know because I told you, AND, my boobs look amazing.