Hello. I hope you’re well. I’m becoming increasingly aware that I might, ever so slightly, overshare on the internet and eyebrows might be raised by anyone visiting this site in a professional capacity.

“Are you sure you want to share that on the internet?” “This is your portfolio?” “I just think you’re burning all the bridges before you’ve come to them.”

All the questions rattling around my brain at the moment, and to an extent I do see how this could all be detrimental to the future, but the reality is, there is potential inside me to be a bloody good journalist and for that to become a big part of my life, but bipolar too will always match that, if not occasionally rising above it.

Now that I’ve given the illusion that there is any thought process behind the Being Bipolar series, shall we crack on?

Being bipolar is a battle. With oneself. It is mental. No, it is actually mental. Most think of bipolar as bouts of manic or depressive behaviours, but the really sexy stuff sits in a sort of emotionally constipated limbo.

Work, play, I was going to write social life, but I am woefully alone because I need space to function. To be honest I quite enjoy culture on my own. It does make life feel empty, but I cannot bear the days of preparation and recovery that come with even the shortest of outings.

No matter what is said or where social moments take place, I enter the room as the lesser person. I am to mould myself around whomever might be present, to be whatever they need me to be. I dare not arrive as myself and maintain the presence I wish to bring.

It probably comes as no surprise, given my past, that I am incredibly insecure in myself. I’ve always felt as though I inhale the energy in a room and rarely give anything of worth back. In fact, in TikTok lives I am renowned as the person who comes out with “such stupid shit”. I think it was meant as a term of endearment, though you can never be quite sure. Regardless, this is the thought that drags me into every room.

“Am I just full of shit?” “You’re making a fool of yourself.” “They can see right through you.”

I write with such confidence and abandon, because life is so beautiful, and living is the biggest miracle of all. I make humour where there’s no light, because laughter still echoes in the dark. But I sincerely hope this post in particular, and my tangled vernacular, may help someone else find that they may be bipolar, but they’re still fucking spectacular.