Hidden in the Fine Print: The Real Cost of Insomnia, Bipolar II and ADHD

It wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t productive. It was psychological solitary confinement — and when you’re Bipolar, your brain is the warden and the cellmate. Some days I was pacing like a caged animal. Other days I was a ghost fading into my mattress. Creativity? Gone. Motivation? Buried. Hope? What does that feel like...

COVID's best friend was Bipolar Depression. It was like a bloodsucking parasite that just went all in on it. Physically imposed isolation X Mentally imposed isolation = FU.

People think Bipolar is just mood swings. Cute. This isn’t mood swings — it’s emotional whiplash powered by rocket fuel. One day I’m unstoppable, reorganizing my entire life at 3 AM. The next, I’m glued to the mattress like my bones were replaced with wet sand. Welcome to the Bipolar Roller Coaster. Please keep your arms and expectations inside the ride at all times.

One of the many rarely (if ever) talked about symptom and very intrusive side effect of Bipolar depression is your susceptibility to rage. It is never directed at someone but it has been directed through my fist and into various walls. Needless to say, it appears that my depression and my hand are getting some relief from Ketamine.

Bipolar & Treatment Resistant Depression are a bitch. They can feel like the Wild West of Mood Shifts. Everyday, underscored by instability.

A few weeks ago I attempted to take my life. Well, I intentionally took too many pills in a desperate need to end the pain & get some sleep.

For years, I fought it on principle. I was too proud, too stubborn, too convinced that sheer willpower and coffee could hold me together. Lithium felt like admitting defeat — like handing over the steering wheel of my own brain. But here’s the truth no one tells you: sometimes surrender isn’t weakness. Sometimes it’s strategy. I didn’t lose myself to Lithium. I finally gained enough stability to stay.

People focus on the trip — but it's what happens after is where the real magic lives. Ketamine blocks glutamate at NMDA receptors, lifting treatment-resistant depression in ways traditional antidepressants never could. The K-Hole Longevity — may be a slight break from my brain but most importantly, it's the feeling of the temporary relief from your brain no longer actively trying to kill you.

Round three of my ketamine treatments brought a higher dose, a Fear-and-Loathing level haze, and a longer stretch of relief from bipolar depression. The calm didn’t last forever, but it lasted long enough to give me hope.

Bipolar depression and treatment-resistant depression teaches you not to trust progress unless it’s loud. But what if the quiet moments count more? No fireworks. No epiphany. Just… relief that actually stayed longer this time.

By the time you’re labeled “treatment-resistant,” doctors say it like you’re a malfunctioning appliance. I’d tried the antidepressants, the mood stabilizers, the therapy worksheets, the lifestyle hacks. Nothing stuck. So there I was — sitting in a recliner snorting ketamine. Special K for the clinically exhausted.

If one more well-meaning human tells me that exercise is “just as effective as an antidepressant,” I’m going to turn their Fitbit into modern art. It’s not that they’re entirely wrong — it’s that they’re painfully unaware of what it takes to move when your body feels like lead and your brain is actively filing a motion to self-destruct.

People think anxiety is fear of something. But mine is fear of feeling fear. It’s like being allergic to your own nervous system. And somehow, knowing it’s irrational doesn’t stop it — it just makes me anxious and annoyed at myself for being anxious. Truly an elite skill set.

The second negativity starts creeping in — You’re failing. You’re behind. You’ll never get it together — I don’t nod and agree like I used to. I swing back. “Actually? Watch me.” This post isn’t about positive thinking. It’s about strategic rebellion. Because sometimes the only way to survive your own mind is to trip it mid-sentence.

While it can be hard to recognize cues once you are in a bipolar mood cycle, it can still be worth keeping an eye out for them.

One of the many shitty things about being bipolar is never knowing just how long the low-lows and the high-highs are going to last.

Some days I feel like a stranger in my own life — disconnected, heartbroken, and searching for any sign that things can get better. This is what it feels like to be truly lost.

Torn between clear conscience and guilty one. Torn between beginning and ending. Torn between holding on and letting go. Torn between then and now. Torn between decision and contemplation. Torn between a smile and a tear. Torn between genius and stupidity.

A figure resting on a wall, a reminder that every person carries a story we can’t see.