The one thing I am finding out now that I have opened myself and alllowed myself to make connections, to make friends is that my friends don’t really know that much about me. And I don’t know that much about them. I know stuff pre-96. But there has been an entire life lived for all of us.
With the bipolar thing, I think it would have taken something extreme: a suicide attempt, being hospitalized, or having a meltdown in front of them for my friends to even recognize my zaniness. They are probably used to the more classically crazy bipolar. Kinda like Jaden (sorry little homie but you got struck with lightning). Mine is a little more insidious. Think Jim Jones, or Adolph Hitler. Better yet, think Keller, King jr, Gandhi. Recently, a friend called me charismatic.That can be the kiss of death. My charisma comes from my disease, it would seem. And the more active it is, the more activated I become, almost like a vessel. It is from this place I draw my power. I can think and feel ideas, shape them and send them out. The funny thing is, now that I know that I am having an episode, I dont want it to stop. Not yet, at least. I need the fuel to push this idea through. More later…being dinged.