Bisexual • Bipolar • Bifelicia

I do this because I find that I frequently feel better about myself when I discover that we’re not alone, but that there are, in fact, a number of other people who ail as we do—that there are actually a number of “accomplished” individuals who find it necessary to seek treatment for some otherwise insurmountable inner unpleasantness. I not only feel better about myself because these people are also fucked up (and I guess this gives us a sense of extended community), but I feel better because look how much these fellow fuckups managed to accomplish!

Apparently there’s a strange place on the bipolar spectrum called a “mixed state,” in which mania and depression meet and collide. In a mixed state, you have all the relentless, agitated drive of mania, but none of the euphoria. Instead, you feel depression’s misery and self-loathing. It’s the most dangerous condition possible, the one in which the most suicides occur. No longer protected by depression’s inertia, you now have the ability to act upon your despair.

But manic depression is just too crazy for most people to identify with, or have comforting platitudes for. There’s a certain liberation in being so out there, beyond the norm. The layman rarely argues with you: your conduct speaks for itself. So I am genuinely insane every once in a while, but at least it’s genuine insanity. It occupies a whole different space in the DSM-IV. I’m still ashamed of having a mental illness. Perhaps I’ll always be ashamed. But now it’s mostly of the consequences, not the condition itself. I believe in this diagnosis. It’s as true to me as being a redhead. Despite the constant shifting of the earth beneath my feet, I feel grounded at last.