Hear me out. My frontal cortex fully developed three years ago (yes, I had an app for that), and when it did, I had a realizationāI could no longer weaponize my bipolar disorder. It was time to grow up.
I used to lean into my biggest triggers, making it easy to blame my behavior on my condition. I get that it adds to the stigma surrounding bipolar disorder, but here's the thing: Iāve learned to take the high road, find my center in the middle of chaos, and keep my composure. Yet, despite all the self-help books, yoga, meditation, and medication, I still sometimes feel like Kanye.
Not everyoneās bipolar looks like KanyeāsāI get it. But thereās something about his unfiltered brain that feels so familiar to me, especially when Iām off my meds. Itās frustrating to see someone as successful as him have public meltdowns because I can relate on a level that scares me. It makes me wonder: If heās still struggling, what hope is there for the rest of us?
That feelingāof spiraling into chaos and wanting to end it, regardless of who started itāhits too close to home. Itās like being a tornado or a terrorist attack, with rage so intense I canāt even find the words for it. Itās raw, consuming, and impossible to reason with.
For a long time, I felt like this rage was a form of revenge for the quiet, overlooked version of myself I used to be. But Iāve realized I canāt keep feeding that rage. Itās a black hole of depression, and I canāt afford to sink into it anymore. Itās not cozy down there. Itās isolating, destructive, and all-consuming.
What I want is to be a better version of myselfāmaybe a more graceful Kanye or an even better representation of what it means to live with bipolar disorder. Maybe Iāll always be on this side of the spectrum, but Iām learning to embrace it. Iām working on being a āmindful manic,ā if thatās even possible.
Maybe one day, scientists will figure out how to remove the bipolar gene, but until then, Iām embracing this as a gift.