I broke the windshield.
Of my blue Scion.
Because I got in a fight with my boyfriend on the phone and threw the cell at the windshield.
The thing that gets left out sometimes about bipolar disorder is the irritability. For me, it was an enormous thundercloud that appeared out of nowhere. Loud. Destructive. I could be fine for days and then the smallest thing would set me off and I would become this “Other Me,” this me who destroyed things with her words or actions. I’d say things I didn’t really mean, not things ElainaJ would say, but it was like someone else had control of my tongue and throat and lips.
I’ve spent a lot of time apologizing for those words, sometimes on deaf ears. Sometimes enough is enough is enough of me and my thundercloud.
But my windshield got replaced two years ago. I, of course, paid for it. I deserved to pay for it. I broke it. I fixed it. And those crazy outbursts have stopped. I don’t remember the last time the “Other Me” came out.
Sometimes mania manifests as irritability. When I am manic everything is good at first, heck, it’s damn near perfect. I am beautiful and the world is beautiful and you are beautiful and I can do anything. But then, that sun that felt so good on my face becomes unbearably hot, and those stars that dazzled me make me feel too small. And it’s all too much.
And the cotton fabric of my hoodie itches.
And the words you say aren’t the right ones.
And here comes that thundercloud – loud and destructive.
I wish people knew, “normal people” knew, that we don’t mean to be abrasive or hot-tempered. It is part of our illness. There is all this energy bubbling under our skin and when the conditions aren’t just right, just perfect, it comes out in a lightning bolt.
Like I said, that windshield got replaced and amends were made and I sit here today at this keyboard and wonder who that woman was, who she is. Because she is under there somewhere, just waiting for the right conditions to form a storm.