I was at work with this guy that I like to hang out with when it happened. I knew that it was possible, that it might happen again, I just didn’t think that it would be this soon. I was aware of my manic emotions, that everything was far funnier and more exciting than it should be. He even joked about the way I was acting. Because I was funny. It’s funny when I’m like that. Then I can calm myself. But it’s only the calm before the storm.
It suddenly became much harder to breathe. My chest hurt at each inhale. I kept telling myself it was nothing, that I was fine, I was at work, I needed to put a smile on, I would get through this. But he noticed. He noticed in a way that most people don’t. It doesn’t really matter that much to me if people notice. In fact, it’d probably be better if they didn’t, because there’s really nothing anyone can do. I went home early for the first time in my life.
I think I’ve spent a lot of time not sure if this is real. Usually I have a reason to be sinking, so being engulfed in anxious depression just seems like the thing to do. I thought that maybe I was making it up, that it was all in my head. I kept telling myself that I probably just wanted the attention. So to keep the attention off of me, I just hide this part of myself away. People don’t need to know that I’m manic depressive. Even if they do know, they don’t understand it, so they just try to encourage me, like it’s something I’m doing instead of something I have no control over. This time I realized the reality. I didn’t want to have an episode tonight. I didn’t want this attention. I didn’t want him to know. And now he does.
What’s funny is that I was just thinking yesterday that maybe I’m healed. I was thinking that it’s been a while. I was thinking that the brokenness was never really there in the first place. Even though just two weeks prior, while out of the country, I had an attack that I had to cover up as well. Why do I forget that? I don’t want to say that I’ll never be fixed, but I can’t fully admit that I’m not broken. I know that this is the way I was made, and there must be some reason for it in the grand scheme of things. I just haven’t figured it out yet.
Who is even going to want me if I’m like this? I’m uncontrollable. I never know when this might happen, but I have this sinking feeling that this isn’t the last time I’m going to sink. I’m undesirable. No one wants the broken car or the broken dishes or broken windows. So why would anyone want a broken person?
I’ve been thinking the last few days about the first time I told a guy that I liked him. I had always seen myself as pretty and I was in good shape and I was thin and I was fun. But he didn’t see me that way. He laughed in my face. And I’m forever embarrassed by this. I’ve been undesirable since the beginning. But way back when I never knew why. I didn’t know I was broken then. And maybe I wasn’t broken yet. But all the ones who missed the brokenness eventually found it, and even though I used to be the one to end things, that eventually changed. Now my brokenness comes out so much sooner. I can’t last a month. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be undesirable.