Of all the aspects of Bipolar, I loathe mixed states most of all …
“A mixed episode is defined by meeting the diagnostic criteria for both a manic episode as well as a major depressive episode nearly every day for at least a full week,” as defined by Stephen Bressert, Ph.D.
My husband told me yesterday he “felt like he was talking to a different person” within the span of an hour. I screamed at him for really nothing at all, and cried against his chest minutes later. I am raw and I am tired.
My insides are churning and my inner dialogue won’t stop ebbing and flowing. I am in limbo. I am emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Rationally I know what’s happening to me. I’m on the edge of flying or falling.
It doesn’t matter though. Hypomania and depression are battling. I am just a ship being tossed about on an angry ocean. I’m resisting the urges to give up and sink, and raging and screaming at the storm, challenging it to give me its worst.
Without the outmatched rational me, I would fade. I would be naked. Exposed to every emotional wave. I loathe mixed states most of all because there is no middle ground. I feel everything.
These states are brief but they are the worst of the worst. I am not my bipolar. It’s only a part of me … if I can keep repeating this to myself, maybe, just maybe I will be ok.