It's not actually that I lie....

I have been accused recently (and throughout the last 20 years actually) of lying. I have even termed my actions in my own head from time to time as lying. But that's not exactly accurate. I guess in the strictest sense my actions could be termed lies of omission, but as there is absolutely zero malice aforethought, or malicious intent I am uncomfortable with classifying them as such.

See what I really do is hide. Not lie, but hide.

Driven perhaps by fear, shame, disappointment, or a need for protection. I started out life incredibly gifted. Both intellectually and athletically. I was even rather cute so I guess you could say I had it all. I was gifted, lucky, and incredibly happy. Unfortunately such gifts and good fortune tend to bring about jealousy in others. My first experience with this came at the age of 8 or 9. I was in grade four and was verbally attacked at recess for not dressing like everyone else in my one-horse prairie hick town. I was mocked and told I was a snob because I had left the tiny local gymnastics club in order to train and compete with a club "in the city". At 9 years of age I was told that what I liked was stupid, and going after my goals was ridiculous. I didn't realize at the time how much this affected me. I wish that I could say I got past it and thrived despite it, but I didn't.

The bullying continued. For some reason I seemed to attract friends who found it easier to be jealous than supportive. It all came to a head in high school when my already shaky self-esteem took a hit from a friend from it it would never recover. This blow triggered repressed memories, leading to to PTSD, and eventually a diagnosis of Bipolar 2 disorder in my early 20's.

I am sad to say that at 35 years of age, my self-esteem has never recovered. I am still that 9 year old. Sitting on the swings crying. Wondering what on earth is so wrong with my outfit. And why anyone would ever think going to gymnastics and wanting to do well is a bad thing.

So I hide. I choose what and how much of myself, my life, and my reality at any given point I reveal to every individual in my life.

No one knows 100 percent. No one. The last person who knew about 90 percent broke my heart and left me. So right now no one even knows much more than half.

And which half they know depends on who they are. There are people I've never met and probably never will meet that know more about my current mindset and mental health than my family will ever know. I can't do that to them. I'll feel like I'm letting them down. Like I'm hurting them. Again.

I moved to Vancouver just over two years ago for a fresh start. For a change that was supposed to turn things around and get me out of the rut that rural Saskatchewan and bipolar had sucked me into. New province, new rut. My family doesn't know this. I can't disappoint them. And I cannot let my parents know that there are still days, more days than I wish to admit, that I feel like nose-diving straight off the Cambie Bridge. I can't do that to them. I can't cause them anymore pain. My mother sat at my bedside day and night for nearly 4 days while machines breathed for me after I became too weak to go on. I cannot cause them pain or concern. I've put them through too much. Whether my fault or not, their false belief that I am well and life is good makes them happy and gives them hope. I feel like I owe them that much.

I edit myself with my friends, what few I have, as well. I have enough trouble believing that anyone would ever willingly spend time with me or like me, so I reveal the pieces of me that I think will be appealing to whomever I'm with. I never make things up, or pretend to be something I'm not. I just only let out the pieces of my true self I feel will be the most appealing, or least offensive to my present company.

As you can guess, this is not a very good way to meet new people or maintain meaningful relationships so I spend a inordinate, and most likely damaging amount of time alone. And I hide there too.

I hide in my house because it is easier than going out into the world to risk judgment and failure. I hide in my bed because it is a cocoon of protection and denial that keeps me from realizing how much time I'm wasting being afraid. And I hide from my thoughts which are often frightening or judgmental, but even when they are inspired and positive manage to make me feel guilty for never acting on them or following through.

I hide because it is safe.

I hide because there is less risk.

I hide because even I don't know what or who I really am. Or what it is I really want.

I hide because I am ashamed and afraid.

And I hide because it is easier.


I am sick of taking the easy way out.

I AM SICK OF TAKING THE EASY ROAD.


So often brilliance and madness intersect. I was shamed for my brilliance so I hide in my madness. I use it as a shield, an escape. I must find my brilliance once again. It does not lie in science and math the way it used to. Over the years my experiences have morphed it into something else, changed its focus. The trick is finding it again.

Where did the brilliance go? And how can I use it well? I am convinced that the path to recovery and survival lies here.

here goes.....

so there's no point starting at the beginning. it just would take too long. i'll sum up. i got sick when i was 16. didn't know it was bipolar 2 until i was 21. i have been on almost 20 different medications, had ECT, acupuncture, therapy, and NUMEROUS hospitalizations. I have used alcohol, drugs, shopping, sex, attention, food, and material things to try and deflect or numb the pain. I have tried to hide from it, deny i have it, run from it, ignore it, deal with it unsuccessfully, give up, and just lay down and die. after 17 years i still don't know what i'm doing and that scares me. it makes me sad. as i type this it makes me cry. a month and a half ago i had what i like to call my christmas epiphany. here's the background. i haven't worked in 8 years. i've been in hiding. i've been avoiding life basically just faking my way through it for 8 years. and not even really realizing that 8 years had gone by. i had shut down. i had completely turned off. i had no dreams, goals, hopes, aspirations. there was nothing i wanted. nothing i could see myself doing. i couldn't make any kind of decision at all. i couldn't order in restaurants let alone plan and execute my life. in 32 years on the planet and months and months in hospital wards i had never met another person with bipolar 2. i felt isolated, i felt alone. i kind of felt like maybe it was really rare and it was soooo much worse than bipolar 1. and i felt like the most broken useless person on the planet. unfortunately i often still feel like the most broken useless person on the planet but i am working on that. hopefully. and i had basically convinced myself that all my failures and the fact that i had dropped out of university 3 times and hadn't worked in almost a decade and barely left my house and was totally irresponsible was the bipolar's fault. i copped out. i blamed the illness. i know the illness didn't help, but i let it be my excuse. and a lot of people in my life let me let it be my excuse for a really long time. familiar with enablers??? i have them. i needed someone to kick me in the ass a long time ago. i know we need to take responsibility for ourselves, but when you are so young and dealing with this and trying to figure it out and people just keep letting you get away with shit time and time again.... anyhow. so at xmas i met someone with bipolar 2. someone i knew from a long time ago. and we had a great talk. and it wasn't even so much who he was, but just the fact that he was someone with my disease. i wasn't alone anymore. and he has a life. and a career. and a business. and friends. and....... excuse gone. in one moment my excuse was shattered. and the isolation was sorta gone. and the weird thing is since running into him i've met another girl with bipolar 2 as well. none for 32 years now 2 in a month and a half. anyhoo. excuse gone. a week later i tell my parents i'm looking for a job. they tell me to stay on disabilty because i'll make more money than at a crappy job and it'll be easier on me. WTF??!!! ok so now i see that my parents see me as completely broken and useless too. and then they compare me to a 60 year old man with a bad heart who can't walk 2 blocks and tell me not to be embarrassed about not working. WTF?! 60 year old heart patient? I ignored them and now have a part time job and am fixing up my house in a very small town to move in to a larger city. Soon after the job conversation my parents as well as a couple other people in my family felt the need to ask me in very condescending tones if I knew it was more expensive to live in a city than a small town. excuse me? and if i knew what rent was in said city. WTF. i'm 33 years old and they were talking to me like a 16 year old threatening to run away and live on her own. so broken, useless, and not able to take care of herself. soon after, the whole i'm 33 thing sank in (my bday is beginning of Feb). and soon after that, the 8 years on disability thing sank in. which turned into, OMG i wasted 8 years. which led to "if i don't figure this out i'm gonna waste 16 years and be stuck here when i'm 41 wondering where the hell my life went". so that string of events is what i called my xmas epiphany. it got me off my ass. i got a job. i'm still looking for another. it got me to finish renos on house and get it up for sale. it got me to go from 16 hours of sleep (or more) a day to 6-8. i get outta bed everyday and do things. my house is clean. and i have a plan and a goal again. yay! or i did. until sunday. when i crashed. on top of bipolar 2 i have rapid cycling and mixed states which makes me near impossible to medicate. lucky me. sunday i crashed. the mixed states started and i have been all over the map since. it's now wednesday. epiphany may have been mania. apparently hypo-mania can last that long. my first glimmer of hope in soooooo long and now i'm worried its gone. my theme for this year was hope. change. progress. balance. happiness. now i feel like i'm starting to drown again. part of my plan was to move halfway across the country once my house sells. i love my family and i thank them for all the shit they've gotten me out of, but i can't be around them anymore. not like this. if the hope is gone can i still do it? even with the hope gone i don't wanna be where i am now. i was so happy i was so excited i actually saw a future. i saw a way to get through this. to live with it. deal with it. aaaaaarrrrrggghhhhh. sometimes you just need to scream. i want more. i need more. i deserve more. i want it soooooo bad. i will not let this beat me. god if anyone out there ever reads this and you feel like you're drowning or being crushed or can't breathe or like it will never end pls just don't give up. it won't ever go away but we can deal. there is a way. i know there is. and if i can find it anyone can. if i figure it out i'll let you know.