I know I shouldn’t be, but it irks me tremendously when people say they think they’re bipolar and yet refuse to even consider getting a diagnosis. I hate that this disease is so misunderstood, and people throwing the label around like it’s a funny personality quirk doesn’t help at all.
I don’t show my annoyance, though. Until now I still don’t really know what to say about it. It’s definitely not a secret, but it’s not something most people know about me.
* * * *
I’ve also heard it said that “you are not your disease.” I *secretly* disagree with that. It’s a part of you. You can’t cut it off like a tumor or pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s there… you live with it – like an oyster learns to live with the painful grain inside it –
And in time, I suppose if you’re lucky, you make it into something beautiful –
Bipolar is what I am. I would rather things were different. I wish it every day. But there it is. I can’t separate it from everything else that I am. My life is colored by it. Everything I see and feel is through that broken filter.