Friday, September 2, 2011
Which has absolutely nothing to do with what I was going to write tonight. I always get a little scared of posting on here when it has to do with a bipolar episode, being bipolar, having to deal with bipolar or things that happen on the more serious side of my life. A lot of that I have on my other blog, that along with my more racy, uninhibited side. Think Fredrick's on crack. If you want the URL to that blog, you can have it as long as you're not family, not someone I see day to day, yeah I know I've made some exceptions, and you can't be judgemental. But back to this post.
I'm always afraid, or have been lately, about being judged by a label. That's all it is. It's a label that had I not gone through years of trauma wouldn't have been given to me. Am I any different because of that label? Well yes and no. I can judge myself more accurately, I tend to think about things a little more, I make sure I take my medication, which only serves to quell my creativity it seems. But in reality I'm still me. It's what makes me me. I'm always ready for an adventure, sometimes I should think those times through a little more, but hey, being impulsive is a symptom of bipolar so I'm entitled right? I've raised 8 kids, I've run a business and I freaking live next to a pack of goats that I haven't yet killed, so I manage pretty damned well.
I've always been open, too open at times. But I wonder if people look at me differently, more cautiously. I mean, we all know the horror stories of seriously messed up people with bipolar, but we rarely hear of the ones that pretty much have it together and manage quite well. One of my reasons for being out front about my disorder was to quash the myths, the stereotypes, of bipolar disorder.
The last time I saw my psychiatrist she told me that she was impressed how together I was, how well I managed my life and I that seem to have a real handle on it all. I was like "Hell freaking yeah! Score!" I kind of look at it like this. What's bipolar when I've been through stalkers, serious accidents, my mom and cousin being killed by negligent doctors, dealing with the NICU and fragile babies, my grandson dying and all the other shit that's happened in my life? Dealing with bipolar after all of that is a freaking piece of cake.
But I wonder how far is too far? When do I hold back? When do I continue? I've gotten so many emails from other people that deal with bipolar that really encourage me to keep it up, to tell it like it is. But I can't help but wonder. I can't help but think that some may take it the wrong way and think I'm some sort of serial killer, or totally deranged.
So I'm left to wonder, "How far is too far?"