Noise and Space

Let me preface this post by saying, I never thought I would be sharing what it is like to live with bipolar disorder. I feared people would misconstrue my words and wrongfully judge me.

I have found the complete opposite to be true. You all have been so supportive. And I now realize so many of you are learning what it is like to live with this disorder, as it affects so many of you directly or indirectly. I just wanted to say thank you for your encouragement. It has helped me to continue to write and share it with the world. Thank you.

When I am amidst a hypo-manic whirlwind there are two things I am acutely sensitive to.

Noise and space.

Because there is such an inner cacophony playing out in my mind, external sounds can border on tortuous.

I can’t be in the same room with competing sounds.

For example, if the TV were on and then the boys decided to play with dueling noisy toys.

Or if I am near someone eating something crunchy. Or if Ro is eating with his mouth open.

I try to reason with him, I ask him nicely to please eat with his mouth closed.

I try to explain that it hurts mommy’s ears.

But how do you explain that to a child, or even a sane adult?

Too much noise literally hurts me, it is beyond a physical or mental pain. It makes me want to scream, to drown out all the other noises.

And so, I often have to displace myself. Move to a quiet space…gather myself together. Breathe.

And that brings me to the space issue. There doesn’t ever seem to be enough. Not so much in the physical sense.

I still love all the little boys hugs and kisses, and embraces from my husband. Maybe I don’t seek them out as much.

But the four walls of my home become cramped. The cupboards, closets, and garbage can become confined.

I have been trying to organize our home, I went to Walmart and spent 50$ on storage boxes. Because maybe if everything is in its place, confined, then I too will feel harmonized.

When the organizing loses it appeal, as things abruptly do right now. I will leave the house. Usually at night after at least one child is in bed.

Nonsensical trips my husband calls them. He is right, there is no rationale to them.

I will find an excuse to get groceries, or wash the car.

Or I meander off to random places, the bookstore, craft store, Target, wherever my manic spark takes me.

It is as though I am trying to outrace the race.

Because, maybe if I keep in motion my inner mind race will cease.

Only it never works, it only acts as a temporary diversion.

A fruitless facade.

And once again I am faced with the obnoxious reality that I am mentally ill.

And I will always be.

I should clarify that I am not depressed right not, merely manic.

Fear not my friends, I go in on Wednesday to get my prescriptions.

Until then, I will persevere…it is what I do.