❝It comes in waves. Which is nothing new. It just feels surprising at the moment. How quickly we forget our suffering (or maybe it’s just me; I don’t mean to speak for others). Though I guess it’s good to forget the pain and anxiety and depression. The internal chaos. The (rarely understood) tortured indecision paralysis. The explosive anger coupled with barely enough energy to function let alone explode. The fear. Uncertainty. Discomfort. Huge, sick, twisted, gnawing discomfort.
Ugh. Okay okay we get it. I remember it now.
But still: it comes in waves. Waves of emotion, waves of confusion. They match the waves of nausea storming away in my stomach. Cycles. Rapid succession. Rolling, crashing, crushing waves.
I want comfort. I seek safety. Calm. I want normal but even in stability I’m not gonna obtain it. Fuck.
On the meds? Still bipolar. Off the meds?? Bipolar and a danger in danger.
Bipolar always. Inescapably bipolar. What’s the point.
But inescapably bipolar— it feels comforting. A whole “I am who I am no matter what” type thing.
