BIPOLAR LOVE, IT’S A BITCH

When you find out you are Bipolar and it truly starts to sink in, you look back on your life. If you were diagnosed later in your illness there’s a lot of looking back to do. I could see so much behavior that now made sense. It didn’t make me feel better it made me feel kind of empty. For a long time I thought staying alone was the way to go. I go to the extreme in all that I do. When I think of men that I thought I loved it makes me cringe. The things I did so they would love me back or give me scraps of attention. And someone help them if they didn’t and I was drinking. If I was drunk and thought I saw one of them looking at another girl or if I didn’t think I was being paid attention to there was trouble.

It was unusual for me to start fights with women. I didn’t think it was fair because I was bigger than most of them. I also thought it was the guy’s fault. 99% of the time I have to tell you that I was not officially “dating” or “with” these men. Sleeping with them? Yes. But that’s all you could call it. My brain didn’t know the difference. My mother had always told stories about how she literally had to chase my father from bar to bar until she finally caught him. This stayed with me for some reason. I thought it was how you started a relationship. Not a few dates first with dinner and a movie, meet the parents eventually, get engaged for a year or so, marriage, save for a house, then children, etc. Nope, not me.

Sex came first, maybe their name if I was lucky, and I would see them around later. There were 3 I thought I loved and I thought had feelings for me. When you’re all drinking no one is capable of telling the truth or capable of love. They are capable of incredible pain and humiliation to prove they don’t love you.

Even sober I fell in the trap again. I can’t keep doing it. Rage bubbles just under the surface sometimes but with it is this constant need to know what’s wrong with me. To ask specifically these people why did you do what you did? What makes you think it’s ok to hurt someone that’s already been hurt more than you could ever imagine?

Instead I sit alone and I give up on that part of me, the one that wanted love.

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