I obviously do have bipolar disorder, but that’s not what makes me who I am, the person I would hope you’d sooner take the time to get to know rather than to dismiss due to some incorrect perception of what a certain label means.  How my brain reacts under pressure may influence how I feel, how I perceive, how I react and how I relate, but that is not what makes me uniquely me.  Or is it? This diagnosis raises more questions than answers I have found. Although I can, and often do, use bipolar disorder as an explanation for my behaviour and reactions, I am aware that it is not an excuse. Even though I am aware of being totally out of control whilst in the throes of what I have come to call my “wobblies” — those extreme ends of mood scale tantrums — I still believe it is my responsibility, to a certain extent, to control the effects these have on others around me. I usually have a lot of explaining to do afterwards. It has taught me a lot about humility.

I always say that after the shit hits the fan, I have to clean it off the walls. I’m getting used to it now, and I’m getting better at it. It usually requires a lot of “I’m sorrys” and tail-between-the-legs crawling, along with an attempt to explain what exactly it was all about and why it happened. Do I say it is because of my bipolar disorder or not? If I do disclose this information to those I meet I risk being rejected as insane, being lumped into the too hard basket, more trouble than I’m worth. If I choose not to tell others of my mental illness I risk the possibility of rejection just because I seem a bit odd, eccentric or outright “crazy”, and that is seen as a character flaw. I risk rejection every day just for being the way I am, and I find it really hard to control that.