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Sunday, December 15, 2019

Beware Of Resident: She Bites

I’m angry that I’m angry, and that makes me angry.

The picture most people have of mania is pure elation. Super happy and carefree. Those who watched “ER” would have seen a wider picture of the quicker-than-light switch to a “freak out”. What most people do not see is the anger.

Now, I know everyone experiences mania in their own way. You may be the one who is the happiest person alive during an episode. I, however, get annoyed, agitated, and straight up angry.

I learned the hard way to keep the majority of it off the internet. This time, I told friends that they’re better off not talking to me. Apparently this did not sink in, which lead to a shouting post to leave me be. 

I’m one of those who is super picky with those I will talk to when I feel particularly yucky. There are exactly 3. Outside of my therapist, of course. They know who they are, and I would hope they know why. 

I have lost friends (well, more like “friends”) through manic episodes. I’m not nice to mostly anyone, and anyone who hits that itty bitty last nerve is going to get a full-force verbal punch to the face.

So, please, let me be. My brain is giving me  a time ten million times harder than anything I’m giving you. No calls, no texts, no emails, no messages, no cards, not even smoke signals. None of those things (or any other form of communication you can come up with) will earn you a pleasant response. I will bite, your feelings will get hurt, and in the occasion you take this warning as a joke, you will no longer be part of my life. 

This, friends, is mania.

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