the art of mindbending

the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2

Alla Peanut Butter Sandwiches!

boatAbracadabra! Poof! Presto Chango! Hocus Pocus! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo! It’s only an illusion! This is the river of ‘denial’ floating my motherfucking boat.

Denial and depression like to skip hand-in-hand across the playground of my life. They ride banana seat bikes through my neighborhood streets. They play kick the can of normal life. The rusted can scrapes and bumps on the cement, its sound fading into the twilight silence.

KickTheCan“What was that?” I turn on the front porch light.

If I didn’t write, would depression reduce itself down to a Nano bug and creep away each time? Yep.

I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 over 4 years ago and still feel like a fake. I read about others coping with depression and unable to function. When depressed, I find a way to keep going at work and home. Food gets cooked. Dishes get done. Laundry washed. Errands are run. How bad can my depression be if I can function as well as someone without depression? Faker.

Fuck you treasonous depression dog. You never leave me the hell alone, even during good times.

Articles about bipolar being over diagnosed litter the internet with suspicion. Not just from Psychology Today, but from PhD’s of various sorts from credible schools. I remember one nurse saying that there was actually very few people diagnosed correctly with bipolar when I gave her my medication list, implying I was not on the short list.

Tiny. Little. Bug. Bites. I scratch them until they bleed.

Mosquitos of doubt flying around my head. Telling me not to trust what my friends observed. Telling me not to trust the professional therapist and psychiatrist observations and their treatment plan. Telling me just suck it up and get off these pills. Really, I am not bipolar 2.




“It’s just silly phase I’m going through…” 10cc  It is just really stress!

I read of others with bipolar 1 and 2. All are very sure and give such solid examples. All are dealing and managing. And here I sit at the magic show waiting for the disappearing act to come on stage.

This is my circle unbroken. The rejection and fetid reasoning bubbling in cauldron of doubt.

What’s the magic word?



One comment on “Alla Peanut Butter Sandwiches!

  1. Rory
    October 2, 2015

    Hugs. You are not alone in this. Too many doctors, therapists, crisis teams, and other health-care professionals are out to reduce the over-diagnosis (as they see it) of various illnesses. One of those often targeted is BD2. This is because you’re strong, capable, and willing to work through it. I’ve had therapists tell me that I present so well that I cannot possibly be traumatized by my past. I smile too much, don’t you know.

    You are an amazing person. Feel free to be blunt, even rude, if one of your care professionals doubts your diagnosis. Remind them that you, and you alone, live inside your brain. Let them know it’s hard, and annoying, to go through everything every time. I might work. I’ve had over a dozen behavioral health personnel over the last few years. It’s hard to go through everything every time, but I’ve done it, and it’s always been worth it.

    I know that doesn’t help you directly. It can’t. But I hope you feel a little less alone this afternoon.


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