The Mess Inside

Sometimes I think I can do everything and anything.

As I finished up a post for today, it occurred to me that there are symptoms of my disorder that I don't mind talking about. Things like depression and crying spells don't embarrass me so much that I would keep them to myself. The crying does embarrass me some. It is nice that you readers can't actually see me.

Then there's the feelings of grandeur, as they call it; I don't mind telling anybody-who-wants-to-know about that. There's not much I could say, though. Hypomania is still a pretty fuzzy concept to me.

Sometimes, I do think I can fly. I mean that figuratively -- sometimes I think I can do everything and anything.

There was this one or two days recently where I was sure that I should buy myself some roller skates. I would take up the rugs and skate in the house. And skate down the street. And on the tennis courts. And I'd lose a whole bunch of weight and take up roller derby.

I bought a sewing machine a couple of years ago expecting that I would make all of my clothing from then on. I still have bursts of inspiration when I plan multiple sewing projects and purchase (or repurpose) fabrics that I absolutely need.

I am not exaggerating in any way.

There are other symptoms I probably wouldn't bring up here. Some I just don't understand well enough to say anything about how they relate to our day-to-day. Others are just inherently awkward. I'm not going to write about hypersexuality, for example, and SSA. Paranoia, delusions, and other psychotic symptoms common in bipolar are hard to get your head around too, and I'm probably never going to spend much time here on those things.

I am not exaggerating in any way.

As low and as out-there as it gets on this blog sometimes, I really keep this site pretty upbeat. You get bits and pieces of me -- of us. Everyone does.

We all do.

No conclusions, really. Just jotting down my thoughts. It helps. Writing helps.