Could I possibly Be Bipolar?
Question by : Could I possibly Be Bipolar?
I’ve been afraid to ask this for a long time because I’m scared that people will think I’m stupid and insignificant. That I just want attention, that I don’t deserve to be here.
I’m fourteen years old, and my life to me is a big mess of memories all thrown together. I was born in London and lived with both parents as a young child. My father was both irresponsible at times and acting strangely at other times: I always remember being very confused back then because everything always seemed to be changing. I would hide under the table, curling up into myself as my parents argued and sparks flew. He would take me on spontaneous trips and do crazy things. He never worked very much, and there were the times when he barely got out of bed. I remember being scared as a child, in fact a lot of my memories are of being terrified of things: the monster in the hallway, the clown at the foot of my bed, the creature under the school’s basement.
My biological grandpa, after his third wife (my grandma was his first) spent all his money gambling and got him into immense dept, hing himself.
My mother recently admitted to me that as a teen she self-harmed, and at times ate until she would throw up, however she didn’t literally induce vomiting.
Then my parents split up: my father had done something which had been the final straw. Of I went to live with my grandparents…in another country. It was so hard, adjusting to the language. I was six at the time, and I remember running around the town and doing things which then seemed reckless and crazy…I loved this.
I moved back to England after three years. I was suddenly confined and this was hard to adjust to. I wasn’t so free anymore: and the school I went to was so large. There were endless corridors, gaping halls. I was shaking on my first day there and always lost and wishing I could burst into tears.
When I was eleven I began secondary school. At first I was eager to make friends and confident in myself. Later in the year I began to despise myself for several reasons. I wasn’t confident at all, and I lost one of my best friends in this time. I seemed to go crazy after that: arguments with my family in which my stepdad would hit me and I would sit there curled up, crying and hating myself. Once I wrote all over myself exactly what I thought of myself and the words were horrible. I took the scissors and cut my hair, huge chunks of it. My mother found me like this and I was raging at her. I started to skip meals because they were so stressful.
At school I was going crazy. I yelled at and even hit a poor girl in my class, missed and threw away classwork, couldn’t concentrate in lessons and hated myself.
Even later in the year I seemed to calm down somewhat. I felt sad though. I knew that it was all my fault and I felt guilty and I wished that I had died. I believed that it would have been better if I had.
Later in the year I sorted things out with the friend and also made a new one. Here we were all relatively happy and extremely hyper teens.
After this a lot of things changed. I have times when I am extremely down and hating myself and feeling so guilty. At other times I think extremely fast, I want to do everything at once and I feel much more confident, and reckless. I’ve been irritable at people, restless. I began “dieting”, which meant throwing away as many meals as possible and feeling so empty and escstatic, running around, whirling around in a park and collapsing on the floor laughing to myself. Until I went that summer to visit my grandparents and I didn’t want to do anything, I didn’t want to live, I ate more and hated myself. Before this I had said things to my friends that I regret a lot, because I couldn’t think clearly and i was desperate just to do something.
This year has been a rollercoaster. It started of almost normal, and then I lost all interest in everything. I had a lot of suicidal thoughts, restricted a lot to lose weight, withdrew from my family and friends, at times slept for only one or two hours and at other times wouldn’t get out of bed and refused to go to school in the morning because I couldn’t face it. I started to self-harm, because the emotions were unbearable and I had to release them. Later I used this as a way of calming my racing thoughts, the only way. Last april I started to do things, which came as an urge and would not go away. I attempted suicide by overdosing three times, and went to the hospital overnight one of these times. I remember hanging by my fingertips of a bridge because there was something urging me to jump off. I do things and then snap back into myself, imagine strange things. And now I’ve changed yet again, eating less and always racing, unable to talk apart from when I am talking really fast. I think that I may be bipolar but on the other hand I don’t feel as if I’m extreme enough. Then again I alwa
*ys think that way. I suppose it doesn’t get much more extreme than attempting suicide. But these things sometimes just won’t go away.
Best answer:
Answer by Ollie
hmmm maby
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!
