Do other people get this? Is this what normal feels like? I ask myself that question so often it's worn out.
Basically what I was experiencing was an onramp to mania.
Last night, after spending time with good friends, an amazing kiddo, and having more to drink than I have in a while (not to the point of drunkenness, but alcohol tends to kick start that mania) I was gleefully riding on the back of the tandem bike toward my house, giggling like an idiot. Euphoric.
It was glorious.
The happiness was welling up inside me, overflowing. It was dark out but the sun was shining for me. I always describe this feeling like this: When Harry Potter takes the felix felicis and is on his way to see Slughorn, nothing can stop him. Everything is great! Everything is attainable. He's walking in sunshine here people!
I want that. I love that feeling. Bipolar is a curse but this one thing is something special that I get to feel that others don't. I suffer through lots of feelings that "normals" don't, I should get this one really great thing, right? This is the hard part, though. I know that I could be entering the danger zone.
I rarely get to experience the mania without a mixed episode swooping in and kicking me in the crotch. I'll be flying high and suddenly, it takes a dark turn. I use the manic energy to mentally punish myself for every transgression. My mood takes a dangerous turn. Those are the scariest times. Even I'm not sure what I'm going to do. It's like some part of my brain is holding me hostage and I have to do whatever it says.
Last night when we got home, my first thought was to keep the fact that I was toeing the line of mania to myself. My secret that I would indulge eventually. I'd wait for my husband to go to bed, then delve into whatever kind of shenanigans I wanted. That's what I really, really wanted to do.
And yet I found myself telling my husband. I put him on alert. I stole my opportunity to experience the only good part of my disorder - the high.
It was the grown up thing to do.
It's so unfair. Bipolar is exhausting, and I spend a great deal of my time hiding it so people don't run away screaming, for which I would not blame them. The illness is dark and turbulent and volatile. There are so many things about it that are terrible. And I snuffed out the best part. I saw the amazing mania leaking through, like sunlight pouring through the cracks, and I stomped it out. I should probably feel proud of myself.
I'm not. I'm angry. Partially because I didn't even consider entertaining the idea of letting myself fall into it. Partially because that's what my mania usually manifests as.
Today I'm left with the ugly side of it. I'm irrationally irritable. My anger is off the charts; my husband even called me out for it. I was partially aware that I was being impossible and grumpy, but I needed to have someone say, "I see you there, and you're being mean."
I feel like I'm going to explode with rage. Clearly that's an exaggeration. But it doesn't feel like it. It feels like this:
I just want to smash!
Today is miserable. This feeling is so uncomfortable, and inescapable. After my husband let me know that yes, I was being a giant jerk, I'm trying to rein it in. Take some deep breaths. But deep down, it's still there. Those deep breaths aren't putting out the fire. It rages on. It's something I'm trying to cover up to make everyone's lives more pleasant. No one wants to see this anyway.
Tomorrow may have the relief I so badly need. Just a little bit more stability with my mood. What I want has been irrelevant for a while; it's not really always up to me. I do what I have always tried to do, sometimes with success. I'll put on a smile, and act like everything's fine. That's the mask I wear. Deep down?
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