Diary of a Mixed State


Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

My eyes open. It’s 10 a.m. Nothing but darkness, with a slight shine breaking the edge of the black sheet blanketing the window. I shield my eyes with the bend inside my elbow. I’m awake. I’m alive. Another day I don’t know how to handle. I slide the shower lever. Water, extra hot, rains on my back. It burns. It feels good. It reminds me of my skin, of nerves, of feeling. I don’t want to get out and face the world. This is my sanctuary.

It’s 90 degrees out. I pop on my beanie because there’s no use for style today. I don’t eat breakfast. I slide into my car, start the engine, breathe deeply and talk the anxiety away. It stays.

Foot on the gas. Driving. I smile. I feel that instant rush of energy. Pedal to the floor. I climb: 50, 60, 70, 80, 90. Wait. What am I doing? I slow. I want new shoes. I buy new shoes. I want new jeans. I buy new jeans. The mall is my closet. Whatever I want I shall have. Credit card swipes. Swipes. Swipes. It’s a rush. I walk outside with a stride, a leap, a gulping laughter.

What did I just do? No money. No use. I am a failure. Who would ever want me? I don’t want me. I do nothing right. Fuck. You’re useless. You’re better off dead. Don’t you even dare wake up tomorrow.

Beer. It sloshes in the glass. I feel better. What was I even thinking? I’m fine! I’m basically invincible. I have to tell someone how great today is!

Text. Text. Text.

Ramble. Ramble. Ramble.

No response.

No response.

It’s been 10 minutes. No response. Why?

Because I’m loveless. Nothing. No one. Who cares?

I drive. No direction. Maybe the mountains? No. Maybe the city? No.

Circles, squares, parking lots. I need to drive. I need to get somewhere. Puff. It’s my eighth cigarette today. Feels good. Feels bad. I buy another pack.

Sunset. Beautiful. Calming. Exhausted.

Unsure what to feel, I slip into bed. TV. Another shower. I slowly fade.

I’m alive. I feel better. I’m stable.

It was my second mixed state, but I’m getting better.

And I know there’s hope.

There’s always hope.

There’s. Always. Hope.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Unsplash photo via Angel Monsanto III.

JOIN THE CONVERSATION

Related to Bipolar Disorder

woman's hand delicately holding pink rose with drops of dew

How My Mind With Bipolar Disorder Is Like My Rose Garden

While in my flower garden recently, pruning and watering my long-suffering rose bushes, I began to think about my life with bipolar disorder and how I, too, am like a plant that is often slow to flower, with medicinal fertilization and psychological pruning hardly providing relief. There has been no master gardener able to clear [...]
black and white image of woman in checkered shirt sitting in field looking at camera straight-faced

When People Invalidate You Because of Your Bipolar Disorder

Hi. I’m in a bad mood — a murderous mood in fact. Call it being moody, call it irritable, call it stress; for me, it’s cyclothymia or bipolar III disorder. A mood disorder, whichever name you know it by. This title earns me the privilege of — when stating my grievance — to be asked [...]
black and white image of hands holding jigsaw pieces

There Are Two of Me: Living With Bipolar Disorder

There are two of me. Each morning, I don’t know who I’ll be. No, we are not twins — in fact we’re completely different. It might not make sense to most people but I like being both. I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder; since I was very young it’s the two of me I’ve remembered. [...]
A pill bottle spilling out pills

Why I Stopped Taking My Medication, and Why I Started Again

It can be common among individuals with mental illness to want to stop their medications. This can be dangerous, and is often cautioned against by behavioral health professionals. Despite the words of warning, I have never met someone with the bipolar diagnosis that has not gone off meds at least once (though I’m sure those strong-willed [...]