Bipolar Mum Journey

Picture this, you’ve just met someone new. Maybe it’s a potential friend, a colleague, or worse, a potential lover. You’re exchanging pleasantries, discussing the weather, and suddenly-BOOM! Out pours your life story, with all the juicy details. Welcome to my world, a crazy conversation fuelled by bipolar disorder and an uncanny knack for oversharing.

So why do I do it? Well, let’s just say my brain doesn’t have a ‘caution’ setting. It’s either full throttle or nothing at all. But let me explain the colourful reasons behind my storytelling marathons.

When I’m in a manic state, I am the queen of charisma! I’m like a human espresso shot buzzing with energy, confidence, and a desperate need to connect. Suddenly, my entire life becomes a west end show, and everyone I meet is a captive audience. Who wouldn’t want to hear about that time I somehow had Lawrence Fox ringing me up whilst I was on the toilet, asking me to be his representative for the London Borough of Brent. 

Deep down, I crave genuine connections. Oversharing is my fast-track ticket to friendship. If I tell you about the time I got arrested for hitting someone with a milkshake bottle, I’m smashing it with a sledgehammer! Sure, I might mention my inappropriate behaviour at the worst possible moments, but it’s all in the name of bonding.

Nothing kills me more than awkward silences. You know that painful pause where you can hear the cogs ticking? Yeah, not on my watch! I’d rather fill that void with a monologue about my irrational fear of people breathing near me than sit in silence. You might be like wtf, but at least you’re not bored (I hope).

My brain sometimes acts like it’s in a soap opera. Every story, every emotion, is dialled up to eleven. Combine that with poor impulse control and voila! You’ve got yourself a walking, talking reality show. One minute we’re strangers, the next, you know about my toxic childhood, my love for caffeine, and my existential dread about flying. 

Let’s be honest, life with bipolar disorder can be a bit of a circus. Humour is my safety net. By oversharing the funny, the weird, and the downright absurd parts of my life, I take control of the narrative. So when I tell you about the time I mistook a stranger for my long-lost cousin and hugged her, we’re laughing together at my brain’s antics.

In the end, my oversharing is a mixed bag of my bipolar brain’s quirks and my desire for connection. Sure, it might scare a few people off, but those who stick around get to enjoy the unfiltered, unedited version of me. And honestly, isn’t life a bit more fun when you skip the small talk and dive straight into the good stuff?

So, if we ever meet and you find yourself hearing about my childhood fear of breathing or my embarrassing arrests over the years, just know-it’s my way of saying, “Hi, let’s be friends!”.