Sunday, April 17, 2016

Boring

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I'm really not boring. Promise.

My bipolar disorder has me living a fast-paced life. When I'm in a hypomanic state, I don't get a break.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/136375272@N05/21762203635/in/photolist-za3YXv-qCPFig-nrdd4q-raXRVe-fpLNfk-k5AFMr-nQ9Vuu-nU65WB-fpHZkp-j6SGqj-aWNAk4-chur5o-jwvoqL-ySrtqA-edUoLA-Cha6ra-jwtSkq-qYCWHC-czu3CQ-m9XLQ7-jwtZ3U-fpM62r-naXCfN-nAGv5P-nYqb7q-kwmhEr-nwm87H-nZ4MEt-kNBuWH-nG2BAk-dVeQqX-adnUR1-osQj3N-k5Ddt1-rco8Z4-CY84Kj-sBdK7L-nRGQRa-nb8w8Z-n7x3jg-fpMvxK-sbg6wn-nQzdnq-jwvhUf-bXgUeg-zTmizJ-owgHbx-fq24vA-czu4AU-bTcAUB

Yesterday, I spent the entire day cleaning every inch of my apartment. No particular reason. Scrubbing the walls until my fingers bled seemed like a good idea at the time. While vacuuming, I heard a loud boom, and for the next 12 hours, I swore someone was hiding in my crawl space, waiting for the dark of night to attack.

Days like today, I talk. A lot. I can't stop. Words come out yet don't form a complete sentence. And when you're me and you talk, the only one forced to listen at home is the dog. Ever try to have a conversation with your dog? For hours? She gets bored. You get irritated.

My mind is racing. I am constantly moving. I crave a way to work off the extra energy building within me.

So trust me. I am far from boring. But today, I'd like some quiet.




To read more about my journey in recovery, click here.

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