Mixed-State Mania, and me.

We’re getting a little personal here, a disclaimer.

This one might be a little tough to write, but I’ll try to keep it an easy read.

I was first diagnosed a “mixed-state” kind of bipolar in 2010. I was crazy. Wound up in a hospital in New York. I drove all over the country in a Civic looking for drugs and old girlfriends. I was very angry. I could feel the surge of anger in my body. I’m glad no one was around. But plenty of folks had seen me angry by then. I was fully aware, hyper, ready for battle. I was also depressed. Saw no point to anything. That’s a different kind of anger called dysphoric mania. I’m prone to it. At least I know, and I mean that!

When I was baffled about my anger, I wallowed in remorse. Now I call my doctor. Things are different, just knowing in my heart I have an issue with anger. Surviving seems doable, for now.

Rinse and repeat.

Just like after a typical manic episode, after a mixed-state mania, you have to put your life back together or give up. Starting over frequently is just part of the deal. Folks don’t want to be around me after they sense how intensely mad I can be. Who can blame them? 🤷. It usually means new folks.

Do you think you have roots?

I grew up with abuse, but I also moved around a lot. I went to 33 schools growing up in the South. I think this had an impact on my development similar to trauma. I honestly think it has to do with mania, to some extent. Each new stop in life has to be explored before I’m magically somewhere else. Everything is so temporary.

I don’t think I’m wrong about that, by the way. I just think I may not know how to act, having learned it so much. It’s in the forefront of my mind most days; when does it suck again?

I tried kissing ass.

I think going so many new places and wanting friends made me opt for sycophancy sometimes too. It took me a while to start learning I don’t have to have my head up peoples’ ass. They’re fine about leaving on their own before I go anywhere . Or do anything. Sucking up to them was me hoping they’d like me but it was really about me hanging on. I knew it’d be over soon.

I’m Pepe Le Pew sometimes. I come by it honestly. I just don’t want the good times to end. That’s when I’m doing well.

When I actually need help..

When I’m not doing well, I’m fired up intense and seething with anger. I’ve woken up out of bed at 2:00 am with over a 120 pulse (that I check now), mad as hell. Just wishing I was in a conflict so someone could feel my wrath. I call the Dr. if that shit goes on now. A huge difference for me. This helps my depression more than anything. 

Self-loathing is pretty real for this “old” bipolar.

My depression is centered around things I’ve done in a mania. So when I come down I have messes to clean up, apologies to make, folks to get use to dealing without, and guilt. The guilt sometimes can be overwhelming. I just hate myself sometimes. More than Trump.

Different things, lately.

I cling to people historically. But lately I like words, music, history, documentaries, writing, because they’re still there after episodes. People are not. It’s a case by case too. Not always bias, not always me being a jackass. To be honest again, it’s exhausting. Starting over is a lot of work. I get pretty sick of it. Seems like my main job sometimes is simply starting out. I’m reluctant to start starting, often. 

This all came up because I subscribe to a Bipolar Newsletter that’s really good. 

They describe my type of mania to a “T.”

A new habit, less work.

The intense frustration I can do without. The ramifications I can also do without. But unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. I have to call the Dr. when I feel like that. That’s the only person in the world who wouldn’t mind hearing from me in that state too. Might as well.

Then I’m not picking up pieces the next few years. I’m hanging out with Keri, playing music. So far, it’s been a system that’s working for me. Only took 40 or so years, but who’s complaining? 

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