My body, my muscles ache and my mind is partly numb, still a bit unclear. I went straight to bed after work and slept for a bit before bathing and eating dinner. I’m exhausted as I regain my stability after a particularly nasty four-day spree with hypomania and insomnia. A fixation on lounge curtains lead to my undoing. My thought process and behaviour out of control and irrational, lead to a heated misunderstanding with The Good Guy. Poor fellow was only trying to help and understand. But despite his best efforts, my brain was sick. Unwell. Perceptions warped. Wrong. Extremely wrong. Just like my neurological wiring.
How many times must I say this! It is out of my fucking control. Now drop it. And fuck you
Then I broke up with him. This innocent bystander cut down in the wake of my mania storm.
Its over. I don’t want to see you again. Don’t ever come around. Stay away from me
This said to a gentle human being who was only trying to support me. Trying to learn, to understand as best he can. I’m ashamed. Deeply ashamed. No one deserves to be spoken to like that. No one. And especially not this good guy. I apologised, but that’s never enough. By the time you say you’re sorry its already too late. There is no taking back those nasty words – I’m too embarrassed to print. But he was patient. He didn’t react. He slowly, kindly, waited out the storm. As the hypomania began to lift, he managed to coax me back to a point of reason, of clear thinking. He accepted my apology. He accepted me. What an exceptional person. It guess it also doesn’t hurt that he almost became a psychologist!