I’m still working on repairing the chaos of my last manic and major depressive episode that happened this past year. I’ve apologized to those I had manic moments with, though it seems, for some, like I should do more. Even when they’ve accepted my apology, things still feel weird—or maybe I just perceive them that way.
I’m trying to remind myself that while many friends and family members may have seen me during the episode, they didn’t live it the way I did. I was the only one stuck in it the entire time. The people who interacted with me during those moments only remember those specific interactions—if they remember them at all. And even if they do, they likely don’t remember them the way I do. They’re not stacking the entirety of my episode onto that one interaction the way I am.
What I’m describing, I think, is the guilt that comes with bipolar disorder. Sometimes, it feels like that guilt lasts longer than it should because others have moved on, but I’m still stuck in the moment I’m embarrassed about. Or even stuck in the embarrassment of being diagnosed.
No matter how many times I hear that it’s not my fault, there’s still a part of me that wishes I had held it all together.
-Sending My Love
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