It’s World Bipolar Day bitches!

Today is a great day. It's about ME (and the other 999,999 bipolar sufferers in the UK, but less about them). Pull up a pew, let's talk bipolar.

I knowwww, I've written about bipolar before (c'mon Chloe, get new content), but it would feel remiss not to mark today in some way though, so here we are. I am well at the moment, which is soooo cool. Being in this stable place health-wise has allowed me to write from a different perspective. When the present is less excruciating, there is time to think about the future.

I've just watched a webinar about research by Bipolar UK as part of their 'World Bipolar Day' programme. I'm feeling pretty inspired that research on bipolar has reached such a volume that UCL now houses the new data centre for bipolar research. I've just been on their website to try and sign up to ALL their studies and trials. And then looking at job vacancies for Bipolar UK. I'm nothing if not an overachiever.

What I've been thinking about a lot recently is that unlike some other mental health disorders, there is no fix. Medication regimes can work for years, then stop. Behavioural decisions whilst manic/hypomanic can be life-changing. This is something I worry about a lot...

Yes, I see my psychologist. I see my psychiatrist (both at vast expense). I make sure I always have enough medication. I religiously organise and take these medications, and I see specialist after specialist to consult on, and help with the side effects of these drugs (most recently, my heart). Despite all this work I put in, my stability isn't secure. So sometimes I feel really fucking frustrated that I do ALL the right things, and yet at one point in my future, it won't be enough.

I'm going to take a step back for a sec. These issues are a privilege to be thinking about. To be well enough to worry about med regimes stopping working implies that they ARE working. Huge!! In light of this EPIC ACHIEVEMENT, I have written a daily timeline...

Slightly inspired by Rosie Viva's Bipolar UK project, here is a day-in-the-life of someone with bipolar, manic v depressed.

(I'm very bad at technology and I think the table is going to display weirdly on a phone. I'm too hungry to work out how to fix it).

Manic	Time	Depressed
She wakes. Sunlight streams through her blinds. She looks at her alarm clock, suspicious. It's 6:54am. She has woken up before her alarm? She cannot believe how well-rested she must be. She congratulates herself on prioritising her sleep and makes a note to self to remind people that being tired really only happens to lazy people.	7:00	Her alarm drags her out of a deep sleep. She has had eleven hours of sleep, but it feels like four. The heaviness is there immediately.
She walks to work. She simply cannot believe how beautiful the weather is. She's listening to 2000s pop songs, on cloud nine. She is grinning to herself and extending that smile to every pedestrian she passes. She walks past a handsome boy who she is convinced fancies her... of course he does? He's only human?	7:50	She walks to work. On days where she feels like this, music is a challenge. Silence allows for too much thought, happy music is taunting her, and sad music is fuelling the despair. She settles on a podcast. The weather is gorgeous, which she feels grateful for.
She just LOVES her colleagues! They are SO funny! Unable to focus on work, she assaults Google with searches for 'the best sports bras for high-performance athletes', 'do running socks actually make a difference', and 'how to get from a 30-minute parkrun to a sub 3 hour marathon'. The answers seem sensible, practical, and achievable.	11:00	She has a work email from an old lady who has attached an image of herself for a project. She bursts into tears. The lady is SO cute. She is immediately worried that she didn't have a husband or family? Was she one of those old people who is living alone? And she is probably FREEZING due to the cost of living crisis? Alone, AND cold? She can't bear it.
She's not hungry, so she spends her lunch break walking to Sweaty Betty and seeing if they have the high-impact sports bra in stock, in pink. She loves pink and feels it is a really subtle display of her innate femininity.	12:30	She's hungry, she forgot her smoothie this morning, but feels she shouldn't eat. She doesn't deserve food. The day is already hard enough, without feeling guilt about carbs.
She is THRILLED to see they have the bra! It's £69. She feels this is the price you pay for quality. An investment in her boobs. If she is going to be running 6 + times a week, she can't afford them to sag. Age is not on her side. Her normal card gets declined, but that's what credit cards are for, right?	12:45	She doesn't feel she can finish this day at work. She desperately wants to go home. To sleep. To pray this feeling doesn't develop into an episode. She is terrified.
She stops to listen to a busker. She can't believe how talented this 10-year-old pianist is! She also firmly believes that children are the future, so this is an investment. She presses the 'MAX: £15' option on the card reader.	12:47	She texts her friends who try and remind her that 'It doesn't always get worse! It's ok to be scared, but you will probably be fine'. Despite this sage advice, she's upset by their pragmatism.
She is late back to work, and is now carrying a Space NK bag as well as the Sweaty Betty one. She knows it was an impulse purchase, but they have a deal where if you spent £150+ on Diptyque, you got a free travel moisturiser. She feels it's a no-brainer.	13:45	At her desk, people are starting to ask her how she is, noticing the change in her. She bursts into tears in the office. The sort of snotty explosion of misery finally being released.
She's getting through her to-do list in record time. She wonders if steam will start coming out of her keyboard. She really feels she's nailed the 'efficient and professional, yet witty and sexy' tone when it comes to emailing her clients.	13:50	She has been sent home. Although they are so sympathetic and supportive, she knows one of her colleagues will now have to stay late to finish the article she was working on. She feels like a burden. Again.
She's texting her colleagues to see if anyone wants to go to the pub after work. Yes, it's a Monday, but why is everyone SO boring? She's frustrated, but re-frames it internally. She feels sorry for them that they lack her lust for life. She toys with telling them that.	16:30	She is asleep, cocooned in her duvet with a hot water bottle.
She walks through her front door, having just interrupted her 70-year-old neighbour's phone call to tell him she loves his haircut, and she hopes he has a lovely evening.	18:00	She's woken up, painfully hungry now. She pads downstairs and makes beans on toast. The misery feels cemented now. Absolutist thinking has taken over. She feels incredibly agitated. A walk, perhaps? She chucks on her Birks. It's 6 degrees.
She is a bit peckish now. She isn't sure what she fancies for dinner. She has leftover Greek chicken and beans, but today wasn't a day for leftovers. It was a day for culinary innovation and experimentation.	18.30	She's walking through the streets, listening to her favourite songs from her 'Cry' playlist. Her misery, although generated by her brain's chemicals, needs something tangible to latch on to. This time, it's the guilt she feels about what her Mum has endured due to her health. She walks past a dog walkers. They look a bit concerned at this girl approaching them in floods of tears, wearing pyjama shorts and Birkenstocks, and no coat.
The main course is almost ready. She ate the goat's cheese and caramelised red onion starter as she is cooking the main, while listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack and singing loudly. Isn't singing just so good for the soul?! Her chicken tagine is ready, but she feels it is bland, so adds a shit tonne of salt. Then more raisins. Then more cumin. She feels disappointed that it was so BORING? After such a long time? She looks at the kitchen which looks like an orange bomb has gone off in it. Furious with the recipe (not herself, don't worry) she reviews it on MOB, and DMs them on Instagram.	21.00	As being awake has been pretty painful today, she takes her meds early to try and knock herself out. She is asleep, and the 'Famous Five' audiobook is still playing, a reliable sleeping companion for those not keen to be left alone with their thoughts.
She decides not to clear up the kitchen tonight. Her energy is better used elsewhere - she wonders if she should look through her CV and update it? Should she start writing poetry again?	21.30
She is staring intently at the table she has made comparing Master's degrees. Should it link to her undergrad in politics? She was quite keen on marine biology master's as she LOVES swimming, but sadly you need some sort of scientific qualification. A smile creeps over her hot chocolate stained mouth... there MUST be postgrad courses in mental health! She feels she'd bring such good insight to that, as she has quite a hefty mental health diagnsos, but manages it so well.	23.30
She decides to take her meds. It's getting late and she's not really tired, so this may help. She can't wait for tomorrow!	23.55

The polarity of the above is probably quite striking. But that's what this condition is. In its most basic form, the etymology of the word shows this contrast between up and down, manic and depressed, black and white. Most of the time, however, I live in the grey.

Sometimes I do walk down the street grinning, when I am not manic.

Sometimes I cry at my desk, when I'm not depressed.

If there's one thing about having bipolar, your emotions are STRONG.

Feeling a bit odd about the fact this isn't funny. Sorry. I'll remember to bring the lols next time. But I think the more people read about bipolar, the more they recognise and understand it, the more steps we take in making a more tolerant society. I know we can be hard work. We wish we weren't.

Bye!!