Loving someone with bipolar disorder

How do you love with someone with bipolar disorder?

It's hard af.

I struggle to love me, and I have bipolar disorder.

I've got friends who love me though. I asked them what makes me so appealing, and they had some surprising answers,

One of my friends told me she loves me because I'm funny, I'm creative, and I'm kind. She loves me because I genuinely want to do good in the world.

My other friend had similar answers; I'm funny, honest, and compassionate.

I was once told that even though I'm a difficult person, there's still something innately likeable about me, and well, my friends' answers prove that's true.

My daughter loves me because she relates to the mood swings, and understands when I'm struggling.

My husband shows his love for me by being kind, compassionate, and understanding.

What does that compassion look like?

He knows I love Robert Downey, Jr, so when I'm in a funk, he'll turn on movies with him in it. I just recently watched Sherlock Holmes, and snuggling my husband and enjoying the movie really helped me know I'm loved.  He forces me to talk when I want nothing more than to clam up. He takes me out on dates when I want to curl up in bed and sulk, He surprises me with trips for just the two of us, to help me get out of my head, and to have something to look forward to.

So loving a person with bipolar disorder isn't easy. We're unpredictable, there's a chance we might hurt you when we're hurting too. I inadvertently hurt a good friend of mine with my last suicide attempt, and I'm having to suffer the consequences of that right now. But I'm still innately likeable. I'm still a good person, even though I do have mood swings, even though I have rages, even though I cry and sulk.

I also delight in making people happy, and serving others. And people see that about me.

I'm loved because I'm quirky.

So to love a person with bipolar disorder, you have to be willing to be hurt, you have to take a chance, You have to be prepared to roll with the punches (not literally, I hope). But there are so many good sides to loving a person with it. We're usually quite creative, and can help you get your house beautified, or help you with a DIY project you're stuck on, We can chatter your ear off for hours, and yet we can also turn around and listen when you need someone to lean on too.

Loving someone with bipolar disorder is chancy, and can be scary, but the person behind the disorder is usually worth the trouble. Like an ogre, (and an onion), there are layers to a person. And peeling back the layers and starting to love someone with bipolar disorder is a beautiful thing.

Like people say, if it's difficult, it's usually worth it. And a friendship with someone with mental illness can be difficult, but is so worth it. 

What You Can’t See About Living With Bipolar Disorder

There are so many things that people don't see about living with bipolar disorder.

No-one sees the anguish of knowing you're cycling, and feeling helpless to stop it. No-one sees the crushing weight of the depression. No-one sees the drug-like euphoria of mania.

People don't see you curled up in a ball on the edge of your bed as you hold your pill bottle in your hand, trying to convince yourself not to take them because you just can't take life anymore.

People don't see the shame spiral you fall into when you wake up from the mania haze and see the path of destruction you've left behind.

People don't see how deeply sorry you are, and how you'd give anything to not be like this.

No-one sees the difficulty of having to explain that you really are sick, even though you look totally healthy. Or the shame that can come along with looking totally fine, yet being broken into a million little pieces on the inside.

People don't see the internal struggle, the often daily internal struggle of living with this. Sometimes it feels like things will never be right; when you're feeling great, you have to worry if it's mania, or if it's not mania, you're worried about how long it'll last. Then when you're depressed, you have to try and hold on to the hope that there will be brighter days ahead, even though your head is messing with you and screaming that there will never be a light at the end of this tunnel.

No-one sees the tears, because you get tired of sharing them. No-one sees the haunting sadness, because you don't want to scare people away.

People see the beautiful smile, and hear the, 'I'm fine.', and leave it at that.

On the other hand, people don't see the compassion, the sheer empathy, and the love that people with bipolar disorder have for humanity.

We suffer, so we are more in tune with others' suffering, and want to alleviate it.

People don't see the absolute genius that is in our brains, usually because we're too disorganized to bring it to fruition, or too scared of failure, or for any other number of reasons.

People don't see enough stories of hope in bipolar disorder. They hear the horror stories, the untreated souls who are suffering, and think that's all that's there.

There is hope. Medications aren't fun, but they bring you peace and relief from the dark roller coaster ride. Therapy helps you understand yourself better, and gives you practical skills to use when you're struggling. Maybe what people need to see, how hard people with mental illness work to improve themselves.

It's a long uphill battle sometimes, but it's certainly not a death sentence - unless you make it one. And people can't see that without help.