Hey guys-

I’m a new member and I’m in a bit of a situation; the ***** hasn’t *quite* hit the fan, but I have that old familiar feeling that it will any moment...

About me. I’m a cis male in his 30s. Married. No kids, just cats. I was diagnosed Bipolar II about 7 years ago after a hospitalization. Before that, I was medicated for anxiety and depression, both of which I have in spades, but the BP was overlooked and I probably ignored it myself.

For the most part, my life has been a constant cycle of chaos since college. Pretty extreme manic/hypomanic highs followed by some super tragic lows, often resulting in self harm, suicide attempts or hospitalization. Wrecked relationships, strained marriages, etc. As I write this, it is shocking how ordinary and pedestrian this all sounds... yeah, we get it, you are bipolar... ugh.

Fast forward to last year around this time. Despite the chaos, I’ve managed to become quite educated and was, at the time, professionally quite successful, running my own business, doing interesting work, etc. I was called to New York to accept a major award. There, I did a fair amount of “celebrating” incl. drinking/drugs/extreme hours/etc., accepted the award and then returned home. About 3 days later, I have a total and complete breakdown. I was unable to go on. I had to curl up, at work, on our sofa, and cry. The hopeless descended on me in a way I’d never experienced before. Fortunately, I was able to contact my doctor and one of my employees drove me to the ER(!).

I kinda like the hospital. If you get the right room, it is super peaceful. Your phone isn't ringing constantly. You don’t have to worry about money. It can be chill. Maybe too chill. Just keep a low profile and act as sane as possible and you can bounce right out of there whenever you want. A+

After the hospitalization, I went on state disability. I left my company to a partner and walked away. It was, oddly, one of the easiest things I’d ever done. The thing I went to graduate school to do, the thing I interned for years to do, the thing I worked 80+ hours a week for, I simply let it go. Time to reinvent myself. Wouldn’t be the first time.

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I’m a fan of certain extreme sensations; I’m not talking base jumping or some of that deathwish *****, rather I’m talking about certain drugs. I absolutely love them. Give me some and I’m the happiest dude in town. No joke. In fact, the only time I ever feel human, is when I’ve taken some. No anxiety. No self doubt. No crippling depression. Relief. Whatever is “me” gets to shine through! I’ve dosed and then just gone about my day. Shopping, work, etc. No fear. No self doubt. Just keep a low profile and act as sane as possible...

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Wait what? Fast forward to today? My life is a ****ing mess. A year of free form exploration has left with with a a series of rickety freelance jobs, a failing marriage, thousands of dollars in debt and disappointed family. My sleep has been disturbed for months and I wake up between 3-5am every morning regardless of when I go to sleep. I was def hypomanic a few weeks ago and I’m still chasing that high. Man, I could get soooooo much done, So much creative work!! For a while, my friends joked about my extreme productivity, comparing me to legendary artists. Yeah right...

So I chase that high...

I augment my prescribed pill regimen, which includes abilify, which is NOT covered by my insurance (~$1k/mo) with stuff that I buy from my “guy” and about 20oz of concentrated cold brew. I do this every morning. Sometimes I’ll throw some other drugs into the mix. But everything is done to try to maximize the positive feeling, or so I say to myself. No depression!! And I mean, you can get there, for a while, with a bag of coke, but... gotta stay productive.

Anyways.

I LOATHE stasis, stability, predictability, uniformity, homogeneity, schedules, clocks, calendars, timers, bosses, obligations, boundaries, vows, limits, and “being boxed in”. **** all that noise. Give me chaos. Give me turbulence. Give me instability. Make me lie. Make me steal. This is why I prefer cats to dogs.

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Believe it or not, I’ve never actually cheated on my wife. Oh, there were some close calls, for sure, but I never did the deed. But, to be honest, it doesn’t matter. I’ve cheated, emotionally at least, probably a dozen times. I’m an emotional hustler. What a scum bag. And I’m going to do it again.

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I’m seriously at a loss. <INSERT SHRUGGING SHOULDERS EMOJI> Like, for real. This truck is about out of gas. I have a few options. Do the work of rebuilding my life. Fight the bipolar. Refuse to let it define me. Exercise more. Meditate. Wear more linen. Eat trendy superfoods. All that... Another option is to realize that there is no such thing as “bipolar” per se, rather it is a manifestation of qualities within my personality that cannot or will not conform to the norms of collective society. I’m an outsider. A New Man. A rebel. Destined to be destroyed by a society that cannot accept him. <INSERT FIRE EMOJI> Dramatic. Very “macho”. Too much of a cis, male, white hetero fantasy. Too colonial. So what. Finally, I could just peace out. *poof*. Keyser Soze style... “and like that, he’s gone...” It could be messy or it could be smooth. But what would my wife think? What would my wife feel? Nobody wants to go through that. So ****ing rude.

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I’m almost out of Abilify. It's basically the keystone med in the regimen. Man, if I don’t take it I fall into an INSANE depression. Wow. I’m not sure if it is essentially a withdrawal symptom or if it is merely the latent depression coming back, but it is pretty amazing. But yeah, I have about 20mg left. I’ve been breaking the pills in half to stretch them out more. ***** is over $1,000/month. I could cop a HUGE heroin habit for that kind of money and, for a while at least, feel REALLY GOOD. But I’m not about to do that. Opiates aren’t really my jam. Maybe I can borrow some money from my parents? I feel like a crack addict. This is about to be some Less Than Zero *****. But for Abilify...

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Damn.

Anyone else feel me on this?