Author: Clem

Clem I find it painful to talk about myself. I’m just beginning to accept who I am. Somehow letting go of expectations, washing away all that caked on dirt…just…hurts. I know one day this will pass. Let me explain: I have bipolar disorder. I am bipolar. I am…bipolar disorder? This illness has become so ingrained in my identity. I first got ill at 14 back in 1999, and I can’t quite separate myself from being bipolar. It’s been over half my life now. I have a degree in classical voice performance, I’m a poet, a pianist, a composer, an artist…but first I am a person with bipolar disorder. I wanted to be the other things first. I wanted to be…I didn’t want to be this way. But that’s part of this project: to be bipolar and to be proud. To tell the world that I’m enough, that I’m fabulous, that I’m not afraid, that I can do anything, and that I don’t have to hide. Welcome to our club. It’s about all of us, and we’re ready to show you who we are. I will soon talk about myself, my whole self, without pain. I will talk about myself with pride.

Categories
Stigma slaying

The Weather is not Bipolar

Puddle

Why is using “bipolar” to describe weather annoying?  It trivializes the illness. It’s flippant. It feels like “oh my god the weather is mentally ill, how obnoxious.”  It’s a complaint. “Bipolar weather” isn’t something anyone enjoys. It’s irritating to them. People want “bipolar weather” to calm the fuck down so they can go about their lives unaffected, unbothered, and not inconvenienced.

The weather is retarded. The weather is gay. Not in use any longer. The weather is schizo. (Still a problem).

Part of me says “fuck censorship, everything is funny or nothing is funny.”  Part of me says, “It’s really hard to tell someone I’m bipolar when they associate it with bad weather.”  Or when they attribute it to anything they find awful. Like various politicians being… politicians.

I want to say “I’m bipolar” without having someone recoil from a fear that I will inflict chaos onto their life. I’m not a fucking hurricane.  I’m probably more like a puddle, and goddamn it quit stepping in me, you’re filling me up with the filth on your shoes.