I had the chance today to catch up with a friend I don’t see all that often. She asked me if I was any happier than I was a few years ago. I thought about it for about 0.3 seconds, looked her in the eye, and told her that I have bipolar disorder. And then we had a normal conversation about it.
It felt good to talk about it. It felt good to talk to someone who didn’t get all weird about it. The fact that I can talk about suicide and self harm and depression and mania and all the shit that goes with bipolar without giving myself or the person I’m talking to a heart attack is nice. The past few days have been really hard (and by hard I mean that dark scary place that could potentially end you up in the hospital hard), and just talking about bipolar in general lifted some of the weight.
This is why support groups are important. This is why friends are important. This is why being able to be open is important.
I can’t underestimate the power of being able to talk to people when things are bad.