I’ve just arrived back at hospital, tossed my stuff in my room and tossed the meds they gave me back at one of the nurses. I’m going to go isolate myself in my room for the rest of the evening and ponder a few things. One of which is the option of being discharged tomorrow. I really don’t know if there is much of a point in me staying here until Tuesday. Why?
The decision was made last Wednesday by everyone (myself included) that I had been given all the assistance possible from this stay. It is extremely unfortunate that I ended up shooting through the stratosphere of Ultradian Cycling over the weekend, but it could not be helped. It is also extremely unfortunate that I am Ultradian Cycler who cannot tell she is cycling until she is smack dab in the middle of it. That cannot be helped either.
Trust me. I wish to hell I did not have Bipolar at all. I wish to hell I didn’t end up leaving such a trail of destruction in my wake when I cycle. I wish to hell all of that destruction didn’t end up hurting so many people including me. However, I cannot help having Bipolar, either.
As I just explained in an email to someone who was not quite sure how all of this worked, I said it was like “The train’s left the station!” It is all I can do to just hang on for the ride. Once it starts, I have no control. That is not some pathetic and weak excuse for my behaviour. It is, quite simply, the extremely unfortunate nature of Bipolar.
Sometimes you may know what the trigger/s are, sometimes you haven’t the faintest idea. But even if you do, once the train is speeding down those tracks, you can still only hang on. And while doing so, it is also extremely unfortunate that you temporarily lose your vision. You only regain it once the train finally stops. Then, with sight returned that makes you want to rip your own eyeballs out of your skull, an extremely unfortunate clarity is given back.
You wish with every fibre of your being you could turn back time, erase it all, but it’s just not possible. You apologize a million times to everyone (but never to yourself) and after a lifetime of doing it, you just want to give up. You believe you’re trapped forever, no one cares or will ever forgive you again. And that’s extremely unfortunate, too.