Support CharitySANE on:


Your stories

Being 'Crazy' Isn't All It's Made Out To Be.

Hereís a few things you may or may not be interested in knowing or hearing about my situation; I have Bipolar Disorder Type II, which means I get both depressive and hypo-manic episodes.

When Iím having a hypo-manic episode, I feel like I can do anything. The world is my oyster and the possibilities are endless. I over-estimate my abilities in nearly everything and I get every over-excitable and Iím highly irritable at that time. I find it hard to sleep during this episode and most nights I got with little to no sleep at all for a few days. Iím usually giddy and get extremely annoying most of the time. I become immature and find it hard to focus or concentrate on anything that doesnít interest me. But thereís a downside to hypo-mania. I can become violent when aggravated, I lash out and punch things, I hurt people and break objects that mean a lot to me. I made snide remarks and comments and I donít realise how much they hurt people until Iíve calmed down. These can last for a few hours, even for a few days. I try not to let it take over, most of the time Iíve found a comfortable middle, between the two spectrumís, where I can be happy and excitable and then sad and worried about the right things. But more often than not Iím on either end of my personality.

When Iím having a depressive episode, the whole world seems to stop around me and grow darker. I scream at the people I hold closest for no reason, all they try to do is help me, but when i start to shut down I donít see that. I see them ignoring me, ignoring my cries for help and so I swear, I lash out, I beat the walls with my fists until they get scared that Iím either going to break my bones or break the house. I storm up to my room and throw my weakening body onto my hard bed and scream into my pillows, stuffing the fabric into my mouth, hoping that I would stop breathing. The will for my heart to carry on beating disintegrates until my chest feels numb. I become paralyzed as the emotions take over and without power to stop them, my eyes water and flow down my flushed cheeks, with no reason as to why. On occasion I find myself sat on my bed, my left arm on my lap and a razor in my right hand. I drag it across the flesh, searching for a relief from the pain, but it never comes. I close my eyes and pray for the courage to press down into my vein, to stop the flow of blood into my wrist, to shut off everything around me and just float into nothing. But it never happens. Whatís worse is that when my episode finishes and I start to come back into reality, I realise what Iíve done and I plummet back into tears. Banging my head against the wall for hurting myself, knowing that if and when people find out, I will have hurt them too, for betraying them, for promising them that I wouldnít hurt myself because I owe them that much. But I donít, I feel guilty for a while then I do it again. I hate this side of me, I hate what I do to myself and what I do to other people. All I do is push them away when all they try to do is help. To everyone Iíve hurt during an episode; Iím so sorry, you have no idea how much I really love and respect you. Iím sorry for pushing you away when I needed you the most, most of all, Iím sorry for the way I am. I love you.