Out of all the states a bipolar person flows through, hypomania is the most coveted–and the most difficult to give up. I’ve often thought of it as a zen state, but rather than letting everything go via meditation or practice, I magically gain the ability to keep track of everything I think I need to in my overcrowded brain.
In 2010, I wrote this anecdote as a journal entry, during a time when I was struggling to adjust to new dosages of my medications. I don’t think I could describe the sensations of hypomania any better today:
When I’m in a hypomanic state, my senses are on fire. Colors are brighter and smells are stronger. I’m a bit more sexual, more confident, more outgoing. Everything—everything!—is alive with passion and potential and emotion. I feel sharp and witty whether I truly am or not.
Stability, on the other hand, is bland. As if someone turned down the saturation in my life, all that’s left are shades of gray.
It’s easier to discern truth from fiction (and stupid ideas from smart ones) when I keep having water thrown in my face, but the process washes away quite a bit of the life I knew and enjoyed previously.
Normalcy is bittersweet.