Drowning in My Own Mind

March 30 is World Bipolar Day, a day meant to raise awareness, break the stigma, and remind people that those of us living with bipolar disorder are more than just a diagnosis. But today, I don’t feel like an advocate or an example of resilience—I feel like I’m drowning.

I’ve always known my mind operates differently. This mental illness is a strange thing to live with. The hypomanic days feel like an electric current running through my veins—I can be charming, productive, and unstoppable. Ideas flow effortlessly, and everything feels full of possibility. But the crash always comes. And when it does, it’s like I’m suffocating, trapped under the weight of my own thoughts.

Right now, I’m in one of those crashes. But this time, it’s not just the usual emptiness or sadness. This time, I’m carrying guilt, shame, and confusion—emotions that feel heavier than anything I’ve dealt with before.

Losing Myself

I made mistakes. Mistakes that I never thought I was capable of making. Mistakes that shattered the image I had of myself. I hurt people, including myself. And now, I’m living with the consequences, trying to reconcile who I thought I was with the reality of what I did.

I haven’t been talking to anyone. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know how. How do you explain that you don’t recognize yourself anymore? That the free-spirited, independent person you once were now feels like a prisoner in their own life? That every day is a fight between regret and longing, between wanting to fix things and wanting to disappear?

The things that once brought me comfort now feel heavy, like reminders of everything that went wrong. It’s exhausting, living in a space where even the smallest things can stir up a storm. Every melody, every lyric feels like something I’m not allowed to feel anymore.

And yet, despite everything, a part of me still longs for what turned my world upside down. Not because I want to go back, but because I don’t understand how I got here in the first place. How did I let this happen? How did I become someone I swore I’d never be?

The War Inside My Head

What I have doesn’t make me a bad person. But sometimes, it makes me a stranger to myself. I’ve spent years trying to manage my emotions, trying to understand the shifts in my mind, but there are moments when I feel completely out of control. The thing is, it doesn’t force you to make bad choices, but it can lower your defenses. 

I don’t want to use this as an excuse. But I also can’t ignore the fact that my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. When I was hypomanic, I felt invincible, like nothing I did could possibly be wrong. Now that I’m on the other side, I feel like I’ve ruined everything. The shame is unbearable.

I know I should be kind to myself. I know that making mistakes doesn’t erase everything good about me. But right now, I don’t feel like I deserve kindness.

Where Do I Go From Here?

I don’t have the answers yet. I don’t know what healing looks like. I don’t even know if things can go back to the way they were—or if I even want them to. All I know is that I’m tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the self-loathing, tired of feeling like a prisoner in my own life.

But here’s the thing about bipolar disorder—it teaches you that nothing stays the same forever. The darkness feels endless, but I know it isn’t. I’ve been here before, and I’ve made it through.

So for now, I’ll take things one day at a time. I’ll sit with the discomfort, even when it feels unbearable. I’ll try to forgive myself, even if I don’t know how yet. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll start believing that I’m still worth something, even after everything.

If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, I’m still here. Just trying to find my way back.