Polar: A Bipolar romance

If I could tell you where it started, it wouldn't be mania and you see, most people don't know that. The man I was in love with didn't. The man in love with me, did.

The man I was in love with? We met at a conference in college. Every year for the next three years we would see each other same place, similar times. I dreamt the whole year about it.

In hindsight the kind of personality that I have, mixed in with the madness of mania never left any one with a chance so when I spotted him in the infinity pool on the top floor of our hotel. I knew and he didn't even look my way.

It was in his smile. It was his shoulders. It was his skin. It was the city and the water. It was the skyline and the heat. You think I am exaggerating. I am sure of it.

Could you imagine living in a rom-com all day? A romantic movie or thriller or drama where you are always the center. The colors shine bright just as they do in the movies without a filter. Anytime you see something that you want and like, the time is always right and fated? Can you imagine that euphoria?

Well I didn't have to because he was my newest one. Let's call him, Lewis, in true, fakest-name-ever fashion. Lewis was the newest obsession in my life and when we are in town, I signed the roster to indulge in him as much as I possibly could. That first summer was a whirlwind and I had not been diagnosed yet.

Just for some context, I was diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder a year after our romance. Bipolar Disorder is the stuff of a lot of your favorite artists such as Kanye West, Bebe Rexha, and Catherine Zeta Jones. Check the list. You see the talent, and the horror. The thing is I have Bipolar 1 disorder which is more happy, less depressy. I spend more time in mania when I am too far gone than I do in depression. Mania is characterized by indulgence to the point of ruining your life. Hypomania is indulgence to the point of constantly inconveniencing yourself. Every high has its low which usually results in a bout of depression. Ruining your life over substance abuse, wasting money, cheating, obsessing, and lying all the time all while thinking you have some grandiose ability is not even the worst part, it actually feels amazing. It is the fact that the longer you stay in mania, the longer it destroys your brain. My therapist says its like being on meth but naturally and all the time. My memory is so awful, its terrifying.

So that summer, I was manic and on the loose. I was young and in college. I was at a professional conference and in a relationship back home. But it was just two weeks. It didn't mean anything at first. When we ate sushi at a place, it wasn't that big of a deal until his nonchalant nature showed me he was just as crazy as I was. We bought alcohol and got wasted at the hotel. We slept together that night. Then every night after that. We had long talks and long nights. I was obsessed. He had ambitions goals and dreams that were as big and delusional as mine. He had stories, fun stories that made me want to have more fun.

The thing about bipolar-ism and mania is that when you get away with something, it makes you want to get away with more. Even if there was shame or guilt to be had about what I was doing, every minute we spent together was more rewarding to keep the good times rolling.

Y'all. I was obsessed. I never had a thought about who I had at home or what I owed him. I was just obsessed. There was a row of days when he went missing to hang with his friends and I had a full blown panic attack. They called the director of the program and she was ready to send me home on a new flight. Of course I didn't want that, I got my sh*t together. He eventually came to see me and all was well in my delusion.

This was our first summer together. The whole time, I don't even remember if he had someone back home either. I had no empathy for anyone, not even him. I wanted us to make promises of being together but at the same time, he wasn't the first and only person I had been cheating with so promises could not be kept. He never tried to promise anything. We were a match made in my deluded heaven.

The next summer was worse.