When I’m hypomanic I tend to ground myself and try and write in my diary (which was what fuelled my boring bipolar life before the genius in me discovered blogging) and this is when the word Sense gets thrown outside the window. So I sat down in my English class (when I used to go to sixth form) and wrote and tried to make sense of my incessant mind. Here we go.
If I could compare myself (bipolar racing thoughts) to something it would probably be the English weather. Those who live here will know that it’s not like Orlando Florida USA where it’s consistent. Because it isn’t. In terms of colour, humidity and choice. Just like the way my brain functions. It’s not clear enough in thought. They are fragmented, then that fragment splits into more fragments, then that fragment into more. Now, imagine a lot of different weather conditions happening simultaneously in the same country. Rain, snow, wind, sun, hailstorm, hurricane etc. Mayhem yes? Now add in the colours associated with the weather: Red- Heat, Blue-Rain, Fog-Grey, White-Snow, Yellow- Sunny etc. All happening at the same time and same place. It intensifies the mayhem for the citizens in a moment of confusion. Now, the weather conditions symbolise my thoughts, ten times more intense and fast moving, no breaks. The colours represent my mood that accompanies it and this fuels the energy, causing rapid cycling through out the week or day. I look fine and normal to the outside world but can they see the inside? That’s where the problem is. It’s like a circus show, private viewing for me only.
This is one of the many forms that hypomania comes in, later escalating into the all time high. Stuff like this is traumatic, but beautiful and I respect this type of experience, because of the creativity it took for me to understand myself. This is was all before I got diagnosed. When it was just me and my diary.
What was I saying? What is hypomania like? Hypomania is like hypomania, hypomania, hypomania, hypomania, it’s like repeating a word over and over or/and a song over and over until it has been engraved into your brain and makes no sense. Then MANIA. Let’s save that for another post. It’s speed without destination or purpose. It’s Carly Rae Jepsen’s Call Me Maybe repeating in your consciousness until you feel like you want to track Carly down and kill her just for writing the song. It’s like a million cups of coffee with 6 tablespoons each plus an inability to count, a faulty memory, creativity bordering on delusion, no sleep, no food or food to “fuel yourself” (yeah, deception at it;s best, it just makes you fat), no sense, insistence, persistence and confusion. And a few other things I’m probably forgetting. Yes, hypomania, is something, like that.
Only bigger. Only worse. Lose the Hypo, and you get Mania.