Summer of 2013

bipolarOtherwise known as the summer I was AWOL from everything I enjoy for FOUR MONTHS. Thinking back, this summer was a nightmare – and the first time that I can remember where I was in a classic hypomanic state. I got a job as a waitress/bartender and I loved it. I was supposed to just be an extra person, work if needed, but I’m pretty sure I worked more than 100%. I worked all summer, almost every day. Hardly ever had a day off. And it was wonderful.

I was going to quit school so I could continue working there. I even signed a contract! Nothing else mattered to me that summer but work and being social. I was in a relationship. All around, I was energetic, talkative, happy. But what I really enjoy, writing and being online, was forgotten. It didn’t matter at all. I had quit writing, didn’t want to do it, I had better things to do. I debated quitting paying for my website. (Thank fuck I didn’t do that!)

And then I came crashing down and realised what I’d done. I’d signed a bloody contract for a job that wasn’t me at all. I hate working with people, having to be all nice and smiling all the time no matter the shit you get in return. I have no interest in relationships or what they entail. A nightmare was what it all was, despite my happiness when I was right in the middle of hypomania. But that’s what hypomania is, it’s not really me.

When my boss told me he wouldn’t have enough shifts for me to work full-time and that perhaps I should look for something else part-time, I was happy again. This meant I could go back to school – and I did. I left it all behind, the job, the relationship, every nightmarish thing I’d got involved with that summer.

I hadn’t done any sort of editing. And there’s deadline’s on those. In my hypomanic state that hadn’t mattered, it hadn’t been important. I had far more important things to do than some lousy editing. And then I came back to myself and realised with horror that I had almost thrown away everything I enjoyed. My writing, my books, my life as an author.

I did my editing and handed it in. Way too late. But what could I say? Back then I didn’t know about my bipolar diagnosis. I didn’t know it was the hypomania that had fucked everything up. I didn’t know anything. I tried to put the summer behind me, forget about it all. I’m not in contact with anyone I got to know that summer. I don’t want to have any contact with them. I just want to forget the whole nightmare.

Yes, I was happy last summer. When I was hypomanic. Thinking back, it’s just a nightmare. A nightmare I never want to experience again. Ever. I made so many bad decisions, so many things out of character, I used up all my money. And I earned a lot of money that summer, with all I worked. Poof. Gone. Nothing left to show for it.

But at least I went back to school. That’s something.

I came back to do what I enjoy: writing.

And I just hope that I never experience a hypomanic episode like this again. Who knows what I’ll do next time? Maybe I’ll fuck everything up for good, in a no-way-back sort of way. I don’t ever want to do that, I don’t ever want to experience anything like this ever again. Yes, I was happy, but it wasn’t worth it. Because I wasn’t me. I wasn’t doing what I like and enjoy.

Never again. NEVER EVER AGAIN.

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