Meanness
by Storm

I would like to take this cyberspace <smile> nice play on words, eh?  My topic this time how I seem to turn in to a Ms. Hyde during my cycling.  I am such a female dog at times it amazes even me. I know Iíve touched on this topic before, in my other articles, but it just upsets me so much that I felt I simply had to devote an entire article to it.

 

One of the scariest elements of this personality change is the rapid speed in which it can occur. I mean NASCAR type speed. Zip, zoom, zammo! Happy as a clam one minute and madder than a wet hen the next. Good lord, enough with the clichťs, right? But thatís how I feel when I think of my Hyde side. One large, bad, irritable clichť of meanness. I go from Snow White to the Wicked Witch of the West in warp speed. From Maryís sweet little lamb to a raging Klingon warrior. And it seems it is always when I am with someone who cares about me. Seldom does this occur when Iím near a total stranger. Oh no. It only occurs around loved ones, friends, family, etc. God forbid it happen around someone I could care less about, right?

 

Pity the people driving on the roadways when these mood changes hit me while Iím behind the steering wheel. I become the road warrior from hell. Everyone is too slow or too fast, driving too close or not turning fast enough in my opinion. Itís ďget the hell off my bumper jacko!Ē Of course when I was living in NY, the city of the nonstop car horn, my demeanor became even meaner with each blow of the horn. My retorts became sharper and more evil with each honk. Iím surprised I made it out of that city alive.

 

For all of those who do know me and care about me, please realize that I cannot control those ďsuddenĒ mood changes. Sure, I can control the gradual ones to a certain extent. And sure, there are times when I really AM in a bad, mean mood. But most of the time Iím just a happy, go-lucky kinda gal whose brain suddenly goes pfffft and weíre off to the muddy races again. I donít mean what Iím saying to you. I see myself saying it, I hear myself saying, I FEEL myself saying it, yet I cannot control myself from it happening. This is difficult for a non-bipolar person to comprehend, that much I do realize. How can you convince someone that you just ďget bitchyĒ for no reason? Itís all in our brains and we cannot take them out and lay them on the table and say ďSee that neural synapse there? Well, itís re-uptaking too much of this neurotransmitter here and that is why Iím acting like a horseís caboose.Ē

 

There are times when I am so angry that I just want to destroy every single thing in my path. I want to steel hammer everything, shatter everything, blow it all up. Scratch the eyes out of every single person who asks, ďAre you okay?Ē HELL NO Iím NOT OK!!!

Thank God Iím not a self-mutilator or I would have probably killed myself by now and not even have meant to.  I just get so infuriated for no reason and at no body in particular. It can become so incredibly frightening. At least if I had a reason I could logically figure it out, but without a reason then it becomes scary. Sometimes I donít even recall joining the ďdark sideĒ and that is even worse than remembering when I do. Then I have to sit and scrape my memory banks for some shred of a thread of memory of an episode where I apparently went off on someone and donít recall a single solitary moment of it. It makes me wonder good heavens, what if I could do something really bad and not remember it afterwards? Maybe some of those criminals we see and read about arenít as crazy or sly as we think. Maybe some of them are bipolar and they really do not have any recollection of doing their dirty deeds.

 

Donít misunderstand, I am far from doing anything like that. I just get bitchy. But it does make you wonder, doesnít it? Just how far some people could possibly go with their anger? Especially someone who hasnít been medicated for quite some time? I can still recall a few of my childhood episodes that I experienced and this was years before they ever started talking about kids being bipolar. I donít even think there was much discussion about adults being bipolar or manic-depressive as they referred to it back then.  All I know is that I experienced severe and I mean severe anger episodes all the way back to when I was least 3 years old.  I can remember feeling a rage that was so black and filled with hate that even Steven King would be afraid to come near me.

 

Okay, to conclude this one, Iím just going to say that Iím going back to the Pdoc and tell him I think I need to go back on the Neurontin because that seems to calm my irritable beasty self. SighÖI hate to have to depend on medication just to be a nice, sociable person, but all the anger control management courses in the world wonít be able to control this monster.

 

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