Recently, the guy who was supposed to be in a friends with benefit arrangement with me dumped me. He was going to be guaranteed sex probably twice a week and he just decided to turn it down because of my recent change of mood. This guy was literally telling me “I’m sorry but I rather just jack it off than dealing with your shit.”
And what exactly was my shit?
I am a healthcare professional. Hence I know when certain days get bleak and hopeless, when silence was the only hum of my life, when all I wanted to do was lie in bed and never open my eyes, I knew something was wrong, especially when there are also days when it feels like nothing in the world can stop me from reaching my dreams, when life seems so euphoric, when I feel so spontaneous and energetic like Bugs Bunny on coke. Something was horribly wrong.
I have been clinically diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder for 2 years now and let’s just say, it’s been hell when dealing with relationships.
I don’t think anxiety usually comes hand in hand with Bipolar or depression but I got that candy as well. It’s been a tiresome journey, a mixture of loneliness and frustration. It has always been hard to attract the opposite sex. I don’t think I’m ugly, I definitely have a better than average body (thanks to the half side of bipolar, I mainly exercise just to keep depression at bay) and I don’t think I have an unattractive personality. But with anxiety and the natural shyness in me, it’s pretty hard to grab a guy’s attention. Guys go for the girl who is laughing and smiling while sipping her drinks and not the girl who is hiding in one corner, looking as if she is pondering upon the meaning of life. But when a miracle happens and a guy actually notices me, he would be ultimately attracted to my “high” side. In fact, he would genuinely wonder how it is impossible for a girl like me, who is so cool, bursting with self-confidence and as quirky and cute as Jennifer Lawrence, to be single.
And that’s my problem as someone whose emotional state is a constant yo-yo. Guys are attracted to me when I’m “high” but when I hit the ground after a period of flying in the skies, they hit the road. Words like “I thought you were fun”, “You’re too suffocating” and “It seems like we are having differences at this point of time” are all things I’m used to hearing. While I resent them, I don’t blame them. I mean, who wants to hang out with a girl who needs to be mollycoddled, who needs constant reassurance and thrives on affection?
Maybe they would be more understanding had I told them about the underlying problem. But I don’t. Because it’s too personal, it’s too shameful, it’s too much of a taboo. I don’t even know how to introduce the topic: “Hey, before we get into bed, I think you should know sometimes I go cray cray and I might start to be a little bit more emotional and my tear ducts just won’t stop flowing and everything you say will seem to have a hidden meaning which I will always perceive it to be something bad. Hope I haven’t scared you away.” C’mon, who wouldn’t hop out of bed like a ninja, seriously?
So I don’t tell them, at least not until they prove to be persistently interested in me, when I have hope that someone might just be the regular Joe that God has intended for me. But thus far, I haven’t been that lucky. Look, even the guy who I promised commitment-free sex decided to hightail out of my life. I am literally on the verge to becoming a cynical bitch but really, as I complain about men being unable to handle the struggles of a troubled lady, I secretly hold onto a thread that one day, a man would see past my lowest and say, “She’s worth it.”