TRIGGER WARNING
Hey guys. So I was manic due to not taking my meds and because of it I got into trouble and in the end got scared straight. I blog and I wrote about the whole thing to kind of help me get it off my chest and I thought I would post it here just to maybe help some of us on here who don't see that things can get better.

There are some graphic scenes seeing as this is a manic episode and some horrible things did happen to me but I just think maybe I can help by sharing that it gets better.
Here it is... (The Dapper Brute)....


The last few weeks have been a little crazy (haha).
I had been into a slightly deep depression leading up to the pride festivities and since I hated being that way, I had dealt with some medication compliance and decided to let the medication clear my system. After a week of a mixed episode of the tiniest hypomanic state mixed with irritability, I shot into a manic state out of nowhere. I was laying on the couch watching some Bravo wishing my life was over when all of a sudden I got a burst of manic bliss.
Like taking a shower in refreshing pool, I was consumed of the energy of a horse. I couldn’t sit there anymore. I had gone out that night, and the next night, and the next night, and finally my work weekend came and after having not much sleep at all I manically took on my job.
This bought of mania had been really intense. It had my mind spitting ideas and creative freight trains everywhere. I had started little projects at home and after a few days I couldn’t reorganize my closet any more. I was loving work. I was creating projects for myself at work and when I got home, I was manically lecturing my mom about things she probably had no use knowing. I was creating Pinterest boards like crazy and only sleeping an hour a night due to reruns of Will & grace (my favorite show of all time) and independent movies about young gay hustlers and dead bodies.
After going out three nights in a row, weds night was crazy for me. I had been rocking out to English rock music and pacing back and forth from my living room to my kitchen with rapid flight of ideas and nonstop nail bighting until I was bighting skin. I had been pacing for five hours when I got the idea that tonight was THE night to go out. I was excited about my Doctor appointment the next day and even more excited about my weekly therapist appointment and I thought that I had once chance to get my fat *** dressed up and out to the bars.
I had packed my backpack for the next day and I had savagely pillaged through my closet to find THE perfect outfit for a hot night in the city that could turn into a healthy looking outfit for my therapist and psychiatrist appointments the next morning. I throw on some American Eagle khaki pants that I had forgotten that I bought and never wore a few years ago and paired them with a witty tee shirt that had a bird with glasses on it and said, “Nird”. Once I had figured out my outfit and checked the time, I was ready.
With twenty minutes to get to the train and not having a license to drive to the train station, I had manically thought that I could run to the train (2 miles) and make it. I had missed the train by 20 seconds but that wasn’t stopping me from having this cosmic night that was meant for ME.
I got to the city at about 12:45AM and I had ran to the redline to get across the city to Boystown. On my trip from the station to the Monroe redline stop, my mania had been getting more and more out of hand. I had been blasting my ear speakers and dancing around the city at night. At this point I had reached that manic euphoria.
(When a bipolar person experiences mania, they will sometimes become “euphoric”. The euphoria feels like ecstasy. Life feels amazing! It feels like that moment when an airplane has just taken off. Every things is bright. The bass is nonstop dropping.)
I had jumped onto the Red Line and in the car that I was in the really hot blonde jock type guy was staring at me. I could tell he wanted me and I am sure he noticed me. This is where I became hypersexual.
(When reaching a manic state, I become uber sexual and I flirt with everyone. Especially really cute blonde guys who go to DePaul.)
We had been looking at each other and as soon as he smiled I sat next to him and stared talking to him. From what I remember, we were really hitting it off because both of us were laughing and because he wanted my number. I gave him my number and I am still waiting for him to text me. He got off at Fullerton, and I got off at Belmont.
I began blasting my ear speakers again and immediately as I launch myself out of that el car I feel even higher from the energy around the city. I begin dancing and skipping to the bars. I feel so special being part of the night life and even though at this point I had only had 4 hours of sleep in four days, nothing could bring me down.
Since all the 2AM bars had been at last call, I ran to Hydrate. I walked in and the place was packed! As soon as I walked in I ordered a bud light and sat at one of the stools. Feeling pumped from the thumpa thumpa, I began dancing in place.
“I like your shirt bro.” A bro-ish voice said. As I looked to my left the hottest guy ever was wearing a sleeveless top and was so gorgeous he could have been a Moschino model.
“Thanks! Haha but it’s a really stupid shirt!” I said being modest. The guy asked me if I wanted a beer and because I was decided to only have two drinks that night (manically trying to be healthy) I explained that my “Trainor (My dog, Daphne’s, judgmental fat shaming stares)” would murder me. He laughed and said some stupid **** like he “owed me one” or something.
I got up to go dance (back pack and all) and when I came back to order another beer, the heavy set gross guy who’s look screamed, “coke binge with country music and Persian hookers” came up to me and started telling me how “hot” I was. I was trying to be cordial but didn’t feel like making out at that moment especially because Mr. Moschino kept watching me hoping we were going home together.
The gross guy had started to get rough with me and as I rejected his demands, he slapped me around the face.
A moment of shock filled the bar as my eyes widened and my manic brain whispered, “Kill him!” I immediately stood up (all 6’2” of me) and did the, “Hell the **** naw bro!” and chest bumped him on his ***.
The bar made him leave as I ran back to the dance floor to catch the last moment of my favorite song, Beyonce- Formation.
As last call came, I decided my night couldn’t end. I still had all this energy and every one was into me and the night was meant for something great to happen. So like all naughty gay Chicagoans, I checked into Steam Works.
When I got there, I had declared that I wanted a locker and the really cute attendant asked me to bring around my back pack so that he could check it out to make sure I wasn’t a drug dealer or a terrorist. He took a flash light to it and just as my manic thoughts raced into the topic of the pharmacy I had been carrying with me I heard a, “Can you tell me what all these pills are?”
“OH WELL THEY’RE NOTHING THAT I CAN SELL!” I proclaimed.
Feeling full of judgment and shame I began to list them:
“This one is Lithium. It is a natural chemical that we have in our body and I use it as a prescribed mood stabilizer.”
“This here is Lamactil. This is an anti-psychotic so that there’s no voices or anything like that up there.”
“This one is Risperdal and I take it to help me sleep.”
The man understood and we started talking about mental health and the importance of it and I began to be an advocate for mental health and all that and then I went on my way.
At Steam Works I got with around a dozen guys and then there he was. “Hey You Cutie!” I saw him as he projected his hello to me.
“OMG! How are you!?!? How have you been?!?” I asked out loud with joy as everyone looked in pain since the cutest guy there had found someone he knew.
It was him. Last summer, I hooked up with this guy who was in town on business from Texas. I went for an after school drink at a restaurant in Merchandise Mart and he was staying at the Conrad. Long story short he’s 49 but looks 34 and he’s 6’8”.
I explained to B that I had missed him that that I wish we exchanged contacts. He agreed and we spent the morning talking in front of the fire. It’s sad that he had to go back but that’s how life works.
I had looked at the time and started to freak because at this point I had to get dressed and check out and get to my doctor’s appointment at Northwestern. With NO money, 3% battery on my phone and only 4 hours of sleep for the week, I completed a five mile muggy walk of shame on my way to my psychiatrist’s office.
I love my psychiatrist. He’s like such a cool dad type guy. He was really happy to see me and I was just as excited to see him. Catching up like old friends, he seemed thoroughly interested in how my life was going. I had explained to him why I looked like **** and how I had just completely a five mile walk of shame from thirteen guys and after a slight pause, he decided to up my meds since my blood levels came back perfectly fine. He decided to up my lithium and I was ok with that because I was starting to come down from my mania.
After a handshake and the scheduling of the next meeting, I went on my way to walk to my therapist’s office.
As I was walking past a building felt a murmur of my heart and right in front of me a body fell from the sky, hitting the concrete side walk some feet in front of me. A man jumped. I was in shock and I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or throw up. Thankfully I hadn’t eaten in a few days so I cried and as the police men and fire fighters gathered I ran.
Twenty minutes later I got to my therapist’s office and started to crash. Plummeting like a fighter plane shot down, I dove into a depression. I kept obsessively thinking about everything that had happen. The guys I got with, B, the bar, the cutie, the fact I got slapped, and the jumper. I empathized. I had felt and thought about jumping from that same building. I keep trying to find out about what happened like who the man was and maybe why he did it but I haven’t found anything yet.
I brought up everything leading up to the session to my therapist and As usual, we talked about sex and death, and after discussing everything he gave me a serious talk about how last night could NOT happen again and that every time I go off my medications I nearly kill myself. I felt like I was a child being scolded by Dad but it made me think of all the other times I went manic.
He reminded me about Christmas Eve. I don’t think I’ve really told many about last Christmas eve but to make a long story really short, I met and fell in love with the son of a state senator and we decided to go to California to get married. We left Steam Works and hopped in an Uber to O’Hare to fly commercial to L.A. I forgot that I had to work on Christmas Eve and so I had to leave him at the Terminal / Aisle.
At this point I was not longer manic. I was Britney Spears when she wasn’t acting crazy and all she was doing was crying. I stopped at the Target to pick up my new medications as I walked two miles to the train station. I got on the train and when I got to the train station in the suburbs, I was happy to see my mom. I walked into the house and tore my clothes off that smelled of alcohol, remnants of perfume, and coffee from doctor’s waiting rooms. I curled into a little ball in my bed and I entered that temporary darkness until I woke up two days later to get ready for work.
The weeks of hypomania that led to my manic break caused nothing but a monster. I had caused issues with my friends and family because off the person that I became and I realized that I didn’t want to end up like that poor man that I saw plummet in front of me.
I woke up, took a shower, and took my pills.
I am back in school now and writing this with a clear and healthy mind. No depression. No Manic. Just me.
-Just Alex.

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