The first cut is the deepest

How I wanted to climb an actual wall and luckily fell asleep.

When it comes to bipolar disorder (or any other mental condition) people want to know how and where it began. I answer the best I can but I switch stories. Why? Because I have no idea about my first time.

I decided ages ago I wanted to talk about my life with bipolar disorder. It’s therapeutic and I keep reliving the moments most people would want to forget. Why is this a good thing? Because I can learn from my mistakes so I don’t repeat them in the future. The more I talk about my episodes (mostly manic because nothing much happens while you’re depressed) the more they feel irrelevant. So what if I thought I was John Connor? So what if I tried to convince my parents I was the messiah? So what if I bought photos at a charity event and I had no money to pay for them? So what?

Things happen while you’re manic. You make them happen. I know now I can’t move clouds with my hands or my voice. What I didn’t know in 2004 in a small hotel room in Belgrade was that I can’t possibly climb the outer wall. Somebody locked me in the room (which was a good thing as I was pretty drunk) and I got a fantastic idea that I could climb down the wall from the second floor. Luckily I passed out before I could put this product of my brilliant mind to the test. Maybe it was the alcohol. There was a lot of alcohol consumed that night. I remember throwing up outside the restaurant, shouting that I need a toothbrush.

I believe that was my first contact with mania. But it could be the alcohol talking. Maybe it’s the same thing being manic or being drunk as hell. In both cases, there are no boundaries left. You are who you are. Who you truly are. Masks off. Maybe it’s a good thing I become the leader of the human resistance or an incarnation of Jesus. Does it mean I’m a decent human being? I hope so.

I was officially diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2008. I had had at least four manic episodes before that. I guess I can put the total number at thirteen. That’s a freakish lot! Each was supposed to make irreparable damage to my brain. Luckily my IQ was quite high in 2008 and it was measured while I was depressed (ha!). I joke about it now, but who knows what the future holds? Bipolar disorder can be fun and games, but it’s also a lot of pain and suffering. I may not be fighting Terminators shortly, but I’m battling my inner demons all the time. And I intend to win.