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Bipolar Disorder: Fear of Missing Something

Updated on June 24, 2015

Two Bags

Two bags of decaffeinated tea rest in my mug at eleven forty-five pm on a mundane Monday evening. Maybe I shouldn’t say mundane because it has been a bit more of an eventful day than usual for me. It’s been the sixth day at the acute partial program for behavioral health therapy. I’m restless, came back from class with a failed grade and two energy drinks because I know tonight I will not be able to sleep anyway. Unless of course I can gracefully quiet my mind so as to rest my spirit. I can’t write anymore, because the stream of consciousness that used to be my mind has left me completely solitary and without the ability to tell what is up there. As you can see I’m being redundant, I’m at this constant loss for words and can’t really begin to grasp what I’m trying to say. I do definitely believe it’s the medication I’m on, it’s quieted my mind. So much so that to even further quiet it would mean to increase the deafening silence that only continues to ring out the truth of my breakdown. I, the artist, have starved without producing any creations. It’s ceased to be me, by this time before I would have been able to fill the page up with so many words that it becomes meaningless and yet sensible at the same time. But now, now all I can do is write over and over and over again about how I can’t do that anymore. What has happened to me, I don’t know. I want to stop taking my medication so I can be what I USED TO BE AGAIN, BUT WHAT I USED TO BE is so far not right. Not good I’m told. It was wrong and I can see the parts of it that could have been seen as wrong. At the same time there were so many factors of ME that were right. Oh so right that people would seek my ideas and listen when I SPEAK. Now I don’t even listen when I speak because where’s the endeavor anymore?


Cold Irony

My nose is cold to the touch, my ears are warm, my lips are chapped from an absence of moisture and my crippled hands are still typing away at the keyboard hoping to make sense out of something. Or maybe not find sense in anything. I WISH I WERE MORE USEFUL TO MYSELF. Irony is I’m more productive now than I used to be. I’m more able to get things done and meet deadlines but still am not completely happy with myself, in group therapy I see many people older than me who could have mothered me who have been dealing with the same things for years. So where am I now, I wonder if I’m them many years ago, still trying to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong. As a rebuttal to those who shout that us bipolar people who are on medication should keep taking our meds, you do not know what it means to have a part of you taken away and for the justification to be that you’re finally supposed to be whole. It’s not the same, do I suffer the consequences now, or do I suffer them later. There seems to be no means to my ends. Trapped between this rock and a hard place, I’m reminded of how things used to be, hopeful for how it can be. Side effects of these medications muddle the brilliance that once was me, deepen the depth that I am right now.


Some days I feel so hazy that I just want to be numb, now tell me, the medications that’s supposed to help me, how do they do so when they confuse me. I’m not ready for this. Maybe today or this week I’ll skip the meds and be able to find sense in my reality once more. Touch me and I’m cold to the touch, I no longer remember what to be touched means or meant to me. I am in an individual captivated by the things that make my senses flutter. That’s who I am, I move breath, live on the fact that I knew what I was made of. This certainty pushed me along in a world of darkness sometimes, lightness in other times. Back and forth I went over and over and over again till the froth was so thick that I just couldn’t move anymore. I looked down and gleaned the smiling one on the edge of the crowd because I was able to relate. On the edge of society, so-to-speak, maybe an outcast, but definitely not cast out. Oh no, that was something I did to myself, willingly because it was just so natural to myself to be this loner. I didn’t feel like I was on the outside looking in, I felt like I was on the inside still looking in, but able to walk outside whenever I wanted to look in. That ability to drift when I wanted was what kept me afloat all these years, above the bull, you could say. What some would call unique and others would call not quite so nice words. It was something though, one besides this routine dull person I’ve become. A recap on my life of twenty one years will find me peaking at possibly seventeen, still filled with hope yet crushed underneath so many dreadful, painful, memories.      

            Oh well I should say, at least I’ve got something to say about myself. I’m not dead yet, there’s till hope. But I can’t even begin to ignore that gnawing irritating feeling that something is missing. There are reasons out there why I need confront my existence in order to keep it; I just need to stay on that road with the intentions to find them. I mean I have found them, I suppose I just need to hold onto to them? This is to you who took the time to read this. Thank you for listening.

Color me red, I am fire stippled in my correct right winged cries. Color me blue, I am foolish for believing that hope would ever have birthed me right.


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    • profile image


      6 years ago

      I can sense your frustration and confusion and I know it well. Hopefully this may console you a little - you've actually helped ME by writing that post. I'm struggling with dreadful feelings of confusion as well and I also have my own blog. I've written similar things myself, but I was starting to worry that what I was writing was coming across as 'odd'. By reading your post I can see that I'm not the only one with thoughts like these and it all makes a lot of sense to me. I really relate to the painful confusion.

      Sorry I can't help you directly, but I thought the fact that you've helped someone else might go someway to making you feel better in yourself.

    • catalystsnstars profile imageAUTHOR


      6 years ago from Land of Nod

      Oh but isn't the tragedy in how funny it is? That we need not strive for anything to be happy and yet our daily tasks entails that endless pursuit. I'm starting to come to terms with who I've been a little more. It's helping me understand who I can become, and that is the true key to happiness, to shine light into an otherwise dark future. Thanks for stopping by, your comments truly are inspiring and thought provoking.

    • catalystsnstars profile imageAUTHOR


      6 years ago from Land of Nod

      I'm replying late, I know, but this comment is actually hitting me now and I can believe more in the passing of what I felt before than I could then. I did come off the pills by the way, and I'm forever grateful that i was able to.

      Also, I'm starting to find that trust in faith, though the foundation is still a bit shakey, the fact that it's there is more than enough right now. Thanks you for your comment Slock62.

    • catalystsnstars profile imageAUTHOR


      6 years ago from Land of Nod

      Hey, i know this is late, i apologize. You mentioned you decided to stay on the medication, it's a tough decision but it has to be made. The objective is to get well and remain able to handle life's hurdles. Thank you for visiting my hub. I hope all has been well with you.

    • catalystsnstars profile imageAUTHOR


      6 years ago from Land of Nod

      Feelings of impending doom? I know exactly what you mean, it's hard to put into words what that despair is. But i'm a firm believer that we are all perfectly balanced even in our mental "disorders". The imperfection you may see, is because you have a greatness you haven't seen.

      You can check out my other hubs on the issue like this one.

      Or even private message me, i'm always willing to listen, and help.

    • profile image


      6 years ago

      I agreeee, this poem is right and the name is true..

      I think I am bipolar.. I lose things that are important to me, yet I dont feel a thing, but I feel hurt, and I just smile. I sometimes think I'm lacking something, I just dont know what, I feel worthless, I dont know why, I want to do something about it, but I dont know what. I'm afraid, I just dont know what I'm afraid about.

    • Denise K Zimmerma profile image

      Denise K Zimmerma 

      8 years ago from Illinois

      Medication is only half the battle the rest is up to us and how we deal with certain situations.

    • christalluna1124 profile image


      8 years ago from Dallas Texas


      I can honestly say I know where you are and what you are feeling. For the past month and a half I have been buried in depression and the misery of knowing that I will never be that that fun loving, carefree person that I once was. Yes i am much more productive but the imagination is dulled, the spotaneity gone... there is a void. I live in the shell of a body that resembles me but is missing the things that I once thought were me. I have often thought of going off the medications but I remember the hell my life was before I was diagnosed and put on meds. It took awhile to get them right but i have now been stable for 10 years... i still have rough spots, but its getting better. hang in there. God Bless and keep you.

      Warmest regards,


    • slock62 profile image


      8 years ago from Florida

      My heart goes out to you. Your pain and desperation jump from the page as I read your words. They make me want to take you in my arms and hold you. That's the mother in me speaking.

      I sit here at the opposite end from your keyboard feeling helpless. I have been where you are and I can say many years later that it is not a place I ever want to return to.

      I often felt that I would not survive but I did and no 35 years later I can say to you, "This To Shall Pass".

      Be strong and turn to God if that helps you in any way. It saved me.

      You might be right about the pills. Possibly a second opinion might be best first. Maybe just a maintenance dose that does not incapacitate you would be helpful and would take the edge off.

      I hesitate to say more for fear of being too intrusive.

      I wish you comfort and know it is there for you if you allow it to be. It jsut takes trust in something other than your thoughts.

    • Ashmi profile image


      8 years ago from Somewhere out there

      You are a true poet Cat....keep writing.

      The tragic thing is that there is nothing that is missing. We are complete as we are. The sense of not being whole,of insufficiency is an illusion born of the idea that we are separate from the rest of life.

      We are conditioned into believing that we must be this or that. That we must strive for so and so. That happiness depends on how people behave or on how things turn out. This leads to misery for it is a lie. We must get to grips with our emotions and what they are about. We are not them and we must not let them dictate what we do or say.

      It is madness to believe we must be other than what we are. We are free and we lack nothing. The problem is we do not know who we are, only what we think we should be. It would be funny if it were not so tragic.


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