My Bipolaroid Shot – Part 1 of 3 – (Hypo)Manic

(Trigger Warning)

I feel all my life I’ve battled mental illness all my life; whether it be with myself, family members or even friends. We have grown well accustomed with each other at this point. I’ve always never let it hold me back, sure it has stopped me at times, but you always beat. That’s what I Tell myself anyway.

Growing up I was always an angry but reserved child. The youngest age i can recall being and have feelings of nothing but despair was at the nice young age of 6. I remember coming home from school and just not feeling right, i felt that I just wasn’t meant to be. Back then though, I kind of assumed that was normal, well, apparently it isn’t. This is the first time I’ve ever mentioned anything like this, it’s fairly brutal for me to come to terms with.

I would come home from school some days and head straight to my room. to escape the world, people, all of civilization really. I use to self harm myself even at that young age; no, not with a blade or fire, but by punching myself in the head and throwing myself into walls and things alike. I use to say such horrid things about myself, yet i was such an innocent child. Looking back now, these should have been alarm bells knowing something wasn’t quite right,

Even entering my teenage years things just grew increasingly worse. The self hate talk got worse, the physical abuse to myself was worse and then the mixture of hormones.. well, welcome to hell really. Ask anyone I went to school with they would probably tell you I was fairly weird. Hell, i know i was, but i couldn’t help it. Hindsight, i would slap myself silly. I was quite reserved, but very much explosive the next. All it took was a simple trigger and I would be flying off the hook, at school and my early years out of school. Once again, i am hearing the alarm bells ringing.

One thing I failed to mention was the fact that i grew up quite religious, well we at least tried to be as religious as we could. And for the longest time I use to blame all my life problems on the fact that i use to be a Jehovah’s Witness, but in present time, it has caused me some problems but not as much as I claim it to. But one big thing being a Witness taught me was to be reserved. So i was reserved. Well actually, i was too reserved. I never talked about my problems, i never talked about things, i barely talked about school life and worst of all, i never talked about what was on my mind. And i kept too much locked up inside of my mind. Life lasting damage perhaps.

Fast forward time to the age of 19. I had just recently been rejected from the police academy, i was working 60 hour weeks on the night shift and I was living a fairly unhealthy life with my diet choices and such things. And then like a freight train out of nowhere, I didn’t want to get out of the house. In fact, I didn’t want to even wake up. My existence all of a sudden meant nothing and all i wanted was death’s cold touch. It wasn’t the first time suicide was on my mind, and actually at this point I had already tried to commit suicide at the age of 16 (but i came to my senses) but this time it was like a dark well I couldn’t climb out of. I even had ideas how i would commit such acts, by punching a hole through the ceiling in the bathroom. and tying a noose off of the beams in the roof and “that’s all folks”.

I was then diagnosed with Depression. Something i was well aware of as when i was growing up I saw what it did to my mum. And in some crazy way i was thankful for it so I could see what my mum had to suffer through that practically made her bed-ridden for weeks on end. And it was tough, very tough. Some of the darkest days i had gone through at the time. But i was so grateful for having my girlfriend Kayla there as she never left my side, no matter how dark the days seemed to be.

But I made a mistake. I was put on antidepressants which was helpful. And i continued to be on that medication for 22 months. After the 22nd month, I convinced myself i felt better. Through laziness and constant convincing, I had cured my depression, oh what a miracle right!? WRONG! You can’t cure a chemical imbalance with laziness and self-hype ladies and gentlemen. So I decided to make the almighty decision to come off my tablets. Not slowly, but the best way, the cold turkey way. And at the time i felt good. I felt really good. And finally felt like i was back to being a normal person and didn’t have to rely on medication anymore.

So things kept’a rollin’ and life went on. Myself, Kayla and my daughter continued on living as it’s called or as close as we could to it anyway. And then things changed. Things really changed.

So my mind is still trying to pick the pieces up, put them together and get a better view of it all, but it seems to be quite the challenge. But i am getting there, and i am going to do my best to explain it now.

Around September last year (2016) I started feeling different. Feeling strange emotions and comprehended things differently. But this time it was mostly different from emotions i have felt in the past. I recalled feeling this way once in the past but not to such an extent. And what was this feeling?

It was a feeling of greatness!

I all of a sudden felt grand. I felt rich with importance, with knowledge, with curiosity. I felt I was given a tank of energy that was never to empty. Nothing could hold me down, and up is where i was headed, no one was going to get in my way, not even the people who loved me.

Little did i know at the time, but this was the beginning of my most extreme Hypomanic Episode… thank you Bipolar.

In the days of September it just started simply as doing a lot at work. Unpaid work, giving all i had, which admittedly i always try to give my 100% but in this sense of giving my all, i was actually giving all that i could to my work. Leaving work exhausted, going home to grab only a couple of hours of sleep and then either heading back to work or just leaving the house. I had to be doing something.

I was filled with many ideas, became goal driven to the max. The world felt like it was in slow motion, insulting my existence. I wanted to try things that i never had done like smoke weed and cigarettes, going out clubbing becoming extroverted as much as possible. I was tempted to do anything I could. I not only felt like a leader, but i felt like i was quite simply the best person around, thinking everybody around me wanting to either be me, wanted to get to know me, or tried to topple me from such the glorious pedestal i put myself on.

Even at work i felt that i was better than everyone, that i was carrying everything on my back and that other people were just in the way. Out of work i was all about my self-image. i had to look great where ever i went, even to the corner shop. I became very delusional about things; couldn’t be proven wrong about anything.

Through the months of October, November, December and majority of January, I continued down this path. But other things got worse. I started to demonize the people who cared about me. Some even became enemy number one. Friends, work colleagues, family members… as well as Kayla and my daughter.

I viewed looking after my daughter as (babysitting) and as a chore. Which in hindsight just crushes me, because anyone that knows me well knows that I would do absolutely anything for her. But during this time, she was just kinda there. I still loved her, but I guess she just became a background character to my grand story.

Worst of all, i hurt the one person that stuck by me through thick and thin, Kayla. I recall a night where i took her for a walk and just tore her down, picking out faults in her that wasn’t there and just shaking her foundation. And to this day I still struggle to remember what it was what i said, but through flashbacks i know they were horrid.

And I wish I could say that was the worst of it all, but it wasn’t.

Not only did I dismantle her hope, but i destroyed her trust. I cheated on her. Infidelity. I don’t know exactly what it was that was going through my mind, but regardless, the act was committed and time cannot be reversed. A couple of months ago i wrote a weird thing on here stating “Hypersexuality is a curse”, well, I received the other fun part of Bipolar and that is Hypersexuality. And you could probably assume what it is, but it’s the near uncontrollable urge for sex. Your mind tells you that not only do you want it, but you need it.

Some of this is hard to write because of a couple of reasons. Firstly, i know that by saying some of this is going to change people’s opinion of me, I’ll become judged for sure. And secondly, because it all seems like a decent excuse. But if i could assure you, i would love to.

When Christmas came, I am sure i was the least most joyous person there was, which is sad to comprehend as i like seeing people being happy.

In the end the people who knew me didn’t want to, the people that didn’t know me wanted to. And i became a god of my own world. I was ruler, i was judge, jury and executioner. I hand the world in my hands, and i wanted it all to myself.

That is pretty much all i can reveal of how i felt and what happened during my Hypomanic episode. Everyone’s story is different, but this is my story. My Mania was 4 amazing months for myself. The greatest I had ever felt in all of my rememberance. The feeling of not even an ounce depression was just incredible. But, it was the worst 4 months for most of the people around me.

This concludes the first part of three of my journey of my worst manic/depressive Bipolar Disorder Type II episodes. Part 2 will be about my depressive side, obviously.

If you have any questions please ask them! As well as any experiences, write them down in the comments, i would love to read your own stories too.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, i appreaciate it more than you know.




2 thoughts on “My Bipolaroid Shot – Part 1 of 3 – (Hypo)Manic

Add yours

  1. Kia ora Steven I appreciate you sharing your story.
    I have had depression and have been on medication for 14 years.
    I am not an expert on mental illness although I have alot of interaction with people who suffer everyday with what I call hidden demons.
    There are times when I want to shut the world out and yes where I physically cannot get out of bed. I force myself everyday to participate in this world and sometimes to a state of exhaustion.
    My family know and yet I don’t think they really understand. Especially when I get so low I can’t control my tears and have to hide away. Mind you I wouldn’t wish what I feel on anyone especially my family. Grraeme has been my rock as Kayla is to you. It is the ones that are closest to you that end up unfortunately sharing your pain. They deserve and need support as well.
    It sounds like you are on your way to healing Steve. Your writing is a great tool for releasing your feelings.
    Great work.

    1. Thank you for sharing your story with me!
      It’s amazing how misunderstood mental illness still is today, but it will only get better.

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