I much prefer the term Manic Depressive to Bipolar.
I was first diagnosed with Bipolar when I was 19. I had no idea what the term meant, and then I learned that the symptoms I was describing to my psychiatrist had previously been known as Manic Depressive, but they were wrapped up in a pretty new term, "Bipolar" to make the disease sound a bit more PC. I mean, if I walked into my office and said "I am a manic depressive..." it would have a much more negative response than, "I suffer from bipolar disorder."
Yet, they are the same thing. Both terms describe the duality that I deal with on a daily basis. Everything is black and white. There is no grey area. It either is, or it isn't.
My manic states, I suffer from addictions- I've kicked my alcohol addiction, and for this I am proud. I did stupid shit when I was drinking. I now suffer from shopping addiction along with an inability to comprehend just how quickly those bills add up. I'm working on my food addiction- my desire to mindlessly munch and crunch on food and eat because I am bored.
In my depressed states... I don't want to leave my bed, ever.
I hate that my two kids see me like this. Mommy... so sad... yelling because I can't keep my cool when they don't listen to a simple request-- fetch me a diaper so I can clean the poop off your butt... is it so hard?
I'd never do anything more than yell, but when my daughter says, "Mommy please don't yell at me." my heart breaks. Then, she says, "Are you happy again?" the instant I calm down, as if, because I'm not yelling, I must be happy. Things are so black and white to three year olds... but my soul is black all the time, even when I'm manic and I feel I can do anything, I fear... that I will do too much, that I will never pay off my mistakes.
