So, there is something like circular logic in the house of Zuhl. First off, I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Then, my mom goes out and reads a bunch of books about bipolar disorder. Ones with titles like, "We Heard the Angels of Madness." Now, all of a sudden, she understands what I am going through!
Please, do yourself a favor. Do not, for the love of fucking God, ever tell me you fucking understand a single damn thing I have been through. You do not. Notice, we do not talk. Oh? You didn't notice? We never talk about a damn thing I have been through. There is a reason. I don't trust you. Don't think you could handle it.
I find it very offensive when you tell me about some sort of group home you are looking into, because you don't like my current living arrangement. You tell me, the staff understand your issues!
Yeah, and I'm sure the staff know all about fish out of water psychology. I'm sure that is a common issue amongst bipolar patients.
I remember, in the past, my mother used to beg and beg for me to read books on bipolar disorder. I actually have, on quite a few occasions. On the most recent occasion, I was reading a book that she liked. It was interesting, but described nothing about me. That's the thing about all these bipolar books. They describe nothing about me. I don't relate at all to any of the issues the main characters have.
After I told my mom this, she got so upset. She took the book away and forbid me to read any more books on bipolar disorder. Just like that. After years of trying to get me to read one.
So I say this now.... The second you say someone understands what I'm going through, you have fucking lost me. And the second you try to get me to explain it to them, you've lost me too.
You don't get to know. You don't get to find someone who can help. THIS IS A PRIVATE ISSUE BETWEEN ME AND MY SPIRIT GUIDES. Butt the fuck out and there is no way I am going off to live in some mental illness group home.
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