Stupid hypomanic episodes

I did something today I haven’t done in awhile.
I called my mom. By choice.
And we talked for almost three hours.
I was, of course, hypomanic after that lump 40mg Prozac.

My mom, while less venomous than her norm. thought I was drunk or high.

I fucking wish.

My brain just catches fire, my mouth won’t stop spewing every thought in my head as fast as it can.
I see why that could be misconstrued as being under the influence.
In a sense, that’s precisely what manic episodes are like.
You become something else, someone else. Your energy skyrockets, you want to talk, talk, talk, you talk so fast, you slur a few a words here and there, and you show emotion you’ve repressed.

Thing is…It was nice. I used to live in a different town than my mom and it cost a fortune for the phone bill because I’d call her and talk forever.
Then her and dad divorced and I got cold shouldered because I just kind of took the middle road where I talked to them both and Mom took it personally.
Since then, we’ve lived in the same time and my mom rarely ever calls me. When she does, it’s about sixty seconds asking about Spook.
So…Talking to my mommy for so long (and she didn’t criticize me even once)….was a blast from the past.

Yet my mother (well, everyone around me) can’t be arsed to do a little research so every time I go manic, I get accused of being drunk or high. It gets old and it is infuriating. I try to tell them, explain, educate.
It doesn’t do a bit of good.

I hate bipolar.
I hate that people are so ignorant about mental illness.
I just…

hate pretty much everything sometimes.

But at the height of a manic episode..
I love everything and everyone.

Aside from the rapid shifting cyclothymia…It’s textbook bipolar.

Why can’t the world LEARN about mental illness before they pass judgment?

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