I thought I loved him. I really did.
Even though we weren’t together for such a long period of time, I’ve built myself up over the years to not fall for people or trust what others say and I guess that’s why I always have my guard up. I met him in December and I thought he was different so slowly started to let my walls come down. I just didn’t realise it would be a mistake.
I tried to explain to him about my Bipolar and what it can do as I didn’t want him to think it would be scary being in a relationship with someone who has this illness. I tried to show it was more than just moodswings and even explained previous episodes I had suffered. We talked about my medication (to a slight extent) and one thing I never do is talk about my Bipolar to people in case they use it against me. Just like he ended up doing.
Everything was good for a few months. We go on really well and I supported him through his own illnesses. At this point, I was stable with the Bipolar and hadn’t really suffered any kind of relapse. I was clean from self harm for almost 2 years and I thought he would support me. He never really spoke about what I was suffering and I always thought that was because he was too nervous around the subject to talk about it. It just turns out he really didn’t care or want to understand.
We broke up and decided to remain friends. He became very bitter and make joking remarks to me, always commenting on how my appearance was or how certain things about me didn’t make him happy. I can remember being laid in bed with him one afternoon and he just turned to me and shouted “your voice really annoys me” and it was just like glass had shattered. I didn’t understand how someone could be so cruel to me. Especially when they were “still in love” with me. I knew he was toxic and I knew he was hurting me but I couldn’t walk away. Each time he’d bring my confidence down, him and his best friend would tell me it was a “joke”. But then things turned sour.
I remember being sat in the pub with him and to be honest, I know I wasn’t myself. But he kept making more remarks about how “shit” I was as a person, knocking my confidence so low that I could tell I was about to break. I stopped eating, I tried to talk to him about my problems but he made sure I knew that his were “worse” or he had “years on me” so it really made my issues seem minimal. And being sat in that pub, he laughed in my face and told me to “stop being crazy and take the crazy tablets”. That ruined me.
I thought I was crazy. I stopped taking all of my medication because I thought I was crazy. I really was fucking mad at that point! And that’s where my latest episode came into play (I’ll write about that separately).
Now, it’s 4 weeks since I last spoke to him. He ruined me and made me feel so small. He laughed in my face when he found out about my episode; he told all of his friends it was his fault and he was proud that he’d made me relapsed. But you should see me now: I’m stable, I’m happy and I’m actually not crazy. Not like he thinks anyway.
Bipolar Madness 