Hello there, I’m broken. I don’t work properly and I’m running out of ideas and patience. He throws tablets into his body and I get the benefits of a kick occasionally as the chemicals pick me up and get me from A to B. Then there the tablets that try to keep me from jumping around from highs to lows and vice versa. They’re boring – who wants to be caged up? Finally he’s taking a new one at night to put me to sleep. It replaced one that used to make me groggy for a couple of hours after waking up – the new one is better but still shuts me down, even when I’m having a good time. I get him back by leaving him tired all day so I still have fun.
Why does he want to change me? I understand that the lows aren’t much fun – mind you it does allow me to get deliciously deep into the dark corners of life and him. There are places in us all that we hide the doors to, but depression allows me to throw those doors wide open and make him face everything the world can throw at him. His own mind fighting against him. Thoughts about mortality of everyone around him – as well as himself of course; can’t let him away without pushing him morbid buttons. Ah the places an imagination can take you.
You think of the worst that you’ve seen on TV or Film and you can take that and multiply it to infinity. Imagination can move you much further than any written word or image. The dark recesses of the mind are not a place you want to live – and the chemicals pull you back from the doorways into the light, but not before he sees the void. Shame, poor soul struggles to then see the world in clear and defined terms after that for a few days – or months it it’s a good one.
Then there are the days when I switch off and just let go. Think of it like the Friday after payday for you – you go out and spend your money and get completely rat-arsed, losing all inhibitions and decency. He ends up without a sense of “normal” or censorship so he says the worst things in the name of fun and ends up standing in an embarrassed silence that he doesn’t even notice because he’s drunk on me.
Usually I’d ensure he found a balance – you know make a joke and then move on, but instead I enjoy the freedom and add fuel to the fire by switching off the connections and just let him go. It’s so funny to have him realise what has happened later on in the day. Then the guilt kicks in and he spirals back down – or even better he doesn’t realise at all and can’t understand why people avoid him. Socially awkward man plus a runaway mouth – it’d be funny if it weren’t so tragic.
It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I’m not made in the right way. Things are missing, other things are in the wrong place. I’m missing elements to allow him to work properly – a lot of people can’t see that. It’s not his fault, like many others he was just made to the strict instructions. Think of it as an Etch-a-sketch approach that there are lines where there shouldn’t be and at any moment things can disappear.
And I don’t like being “normal” anyway – it’s boring. At the same time I’m not keen on this limbo I exist in now. Neither fish nor fowl. You can’t have the fun of the Bi-polar swings from deep dark recesses right up to the stratospheric highs and the jumps between the two. If this is how you muggles live with little in between I’m not sure I want to live in between. Better to be completely sedated the whole time than in a state of flux between meh to oh? Better to have Woo-hoo! to Oh Fuck!?
Not my choice. He makes those decisions on our behalf. I try to influence; sometimes I make an impact but I’m fighting against too many people now. Not just him, but his family, friends, GPs and Consultants. I get it – he needs to function but come on kid – let’s let loose just once in a while???
Broken and out of control. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.