Okay, well my last post was a little over the top. I tend to be that way sometimes. I think I was trying to pump myself up more than anything. Today, I’d say I’m feeling the exact opposite. I feel worthless, and I would rather hide in my bed than to let anyone know I’m bipolar. That’s why this blog is so perfect. I’m letting you know about me without really letting you know about me. Weird.
I feel detached. I think that is why I don’t write much anymore. I’ve created a wall between you and me because I don’t want people to know my true identity for fear of some repercussion later in life. Don’t ask me what they might be. I think hiding is b.s., but my family and therapist think people should only know me as My Dualities so that is what you get. I think that is another reason I can’t write the book I want to write. My life story will have to sit on the shelf of my mind for a while.
A part of me will always wish I could shout to the world about bipolar disorder and metal illness, and my experience with it. However, I start tearing up when I tell people face to face about being bipolar. I’m a bigot, a hypocrite. I can write about it until my hand gets numb, but put me in front of others, I start feeling judged, ashamed, embarrassed even. I’ve never been a great public speaker, but I need to get around this fear somehow.
I have an opportunity to speak out and make the population more aware of mental disorders and the need for better support systems around where I live, but I don’t think I have the strength to be the public speaker I will need to be…not yet anyway.