New balance

There's no pattern to this, so it's hard for me to know when I'd be hit with a downswing. Or a manic attack. There were a few triggers that led me to feel down for a while.

I somehow feel like I can't be saved.

I know the facts, and that doesn't hinder me from living life. It's incurable, and I know it. But people live with it, and some people live very productive lives. Some 90% of marriages or relationships with a bipolar person end in divorce or separation. So it's easy to point blame. We're the crazy ones. We're the ones who are unstable, not of sound of mind, unable to make decisions.

The existence of the World Wide Web is making me feel like I don't belong even more. I look at tweets and status updates, and I look at latest news and research developments, and I wonder where my place is in this world. I feel like if I dropped out, if I checked out, it would actually be alright. Nothing would feel wrong. Balance would probably be restored. And that's even giving myself some credit. What makes me think I even matter? I don't. So let's just say that nothing would happen if I were gone.

And that comforts me a little.

It's pretty easy to brush it off, sometimes. It's not like I'm not genuine in feeling these feelings. I am. Completely. I just don't know how to deal with things, with people, with myself. There's great paranoia that accompanies this illness. You are afraid of everything - and then you brush your fears aside and you don't know what's right.

I'm so tired. I don't like the feeling of feeling victimised. I am not a victim. I just happen to have been blessed or cursed with this, depending on how you view it. And those words keep ringing in your ears, making you feel inadequate. Making you feel strange and all those words that do not describe a normal, loveable woman.

For I am not a loveable woman. I don't turn heads. I don't make hearts race. I don't give them sweaty palms.

All I do is make them more confused about life, because I can't figure out what the meaning of life is. No wonder my past lovers were so eager and keen to let me go. They craved normalcy. One even said that, affirmed that. Out loud. To me. To my ears.

They bled.

Sure, people hate negativity. Who doesn't? Don't bring me down, they sang. I listened. So what can I do but to pretend? That every time a tear comes so near, I lie through gritted teeth and make believe. I create my own world, and I go into it every time things turn ugly. I make believe that I could be happy. That I belong. That it is possible for someone like me to be appreciated. To be loved.

And I try my best to ignore that inner voice that whispers "bullshit".

I just didn't think that I would fall into a depressed mood so early in the year. It's funny, though, really. You see the beauty of everything when you're high in the clouds, and you see the beauty of everything when you're down, right down in your dungeon of pain. It's like the raindrops suddenly hurt you, and yet you want them to. Because feeling something, is better than feeling nothing.

Maybe, medically speaking, logically speaking, I just need a medication adjustment.