Often times when I explain my hypomania symptoms to people who have never experienced it, they say it sounds pretty positive and/or productive. I don’t fault them for this, because from the outside looking in, it does seem that way. Hell, even in the midst of it, it seems that way. The reality, however, is messy and volatile.
The exact symptoms of hypomania can differ from person to person, so I will be speaking on my own symptoms.
Think about a time when your creative juices were really flowing, and you felt confident in your abilities. Now try to imagine that creativity multiplying like cells under a microscope without any way of stopping them until they spill over the slide. That confidence in yourself feeling so strong that you, a person who has never studied a STEM field, would feel the need to argue quantum physic theories with a physicist. Nothing feels out of your reach. Not a job, not a person, not a business plan, nothing. The universe seems to be aligning just for you.
But it’s not.
You know the colloquialism of being “off that Hen/brown liquor” and how it means you’re sexually uninhibited and in dire need of sexual release. Now imagine being completely sober and that feeling at the forefront of your mind at all times. Pushing all of your decisions and convincing you that you are invincible and will never suffer repercussions or feelings of regret. You’ve switched to the primal recesses of your mind, but you’re in control. Or so you think.
Think of the times you’ve budgeted for a shopping spree for apparel for the upcoming season or gifts for others or any shopping trip that would require time to save up. Now imagine that your credit card was swiped as soon as you saw something that elicited an “Ooooh.” No memory of doing so. No thought about whether or not you could cover it. Just the rush of satisfaction for acquiring something new.
When I’m hypomanic it feels like my whole body is buzzing. Like the vibrations would lift me off the ground and carry me away if I were to keep still for too long. I find a million things to do in my tiny apartment in order to not fly away. Whether that be throwing out trashbags full of what was once sentimental, organizing and reorganizing closets, noticing specks on my blinds and believing there is no other solution other than meticulously cleaning them in the bath tub. Things that I never noticed are now glaring at my like neon signs. Has the picture always been crooked? Has that wall always looked that dingy?
I don’t just pick at the cleanliness of my home either. Skin blemishes, split ends, uneven nails, and just about anything that I can hyper-focus on and get lost in trying to fix gets attention. I haven’t gotten past a certain hair length because of how often I get the urge to just snip away at it because I notice one strand looking wonky and then with each snip of the scissors more and more pop up.
I laugh too loud and move too much. Often just getting the urge to spin in circles or talk to myself outloud. Everything I think and say is hilarious. I am the graceful dancer I always hoped to be, prancing through my home as though I’m in a Disney musical. The world is a fantasy land. Both dark and light. I feel invincable. Driving faster than I should. Walking streets alone that I know I shouldn’t. Meeting up with strangers or people I just haven’t spoken with in years and don’t fully know their intentions.
The one similarity between depression and hypomania that I have noticed is that the instinct for self-preservation is greatly diminished. While in depression it’s more of an “I don’t want to be alive and I may or may not handle this problem myself” situation. While hypomania is really just the embodiment of #YOLO (You Only Live Once.)
While, in the moment, hypomania doesn’t feel terrible, the inevitable crash into dperession and being hit with the consequences of your previous actions is an unbearable smack in the face. Having lived these ups and downs so many times, feelings of joy, excitement, and just genuine happiness actually scare me. I fear that this isn’t an earned feeling, but a symptom of my bipolar disorder. I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s like trying to learn to trust again after an abusive relationship. Is this a red flag or is this just a hypersensitivity to any behavior remotely like my ex’s? Is this hypomania or is this happiness? It’s a tightrope act that I will sadly never get off of, but am no better equipped to deal with.
