Succubus

I found this post in my drafts from years ago. I still get like this sometimes. I feel it’s important to share these feelings. I used to think I was the only person who thought like this when I had originally wrote this. It’s kind of a chop off a bigger feeling, but it still means something to me.

TW; I talk about suicidal ideation and passive ideation.

One of the side effects of being bipolar that nobody tells you about is how draining you are to other people. You are a black hole that sucks the life out of everyone around you, especially those who choose to get close to you. It ruins relationships beyond the point of being salvageable, no matter how hard you try. It seems that once the black hole opens, all bets are off.

I’ve spent 38 years starting over. Every time I have let someone in and they have decided I’m worth getting close to, they figure out that I’m not worth much in the end. I can’t count the number of times I have had to tell my story over just to be shut out because of the symptoms of my mental illness. The amount of pain that carries to not only lose that person but to have to just relive everything that makes you who you are with someone new. It’s something I am getting tired of doing and wondering if it’s even worth it to let anyone near me.

I start great. I’m happy, confident, and excited about the new friendship. I appear to be a fully present adult with his shit together. Then as time goes on my insecurities start to show. I get jealous of other people. I question space. The silence. My mind starts racing and I wonder about all the things that could be wrong. I latch on to the one small text or thing said and make it into the end of the world.

It starts with a cocked head, like a dog confused about something. Then you start to see the life and joy drain out of the person who has to live through the same moment over and over again with you. They dread the thought of even being around you when it’s all said and done. Then they decide it’s not worth it anymore And who can blame them? You just put them through hell. I get it. I do. I wish I could escape myself sometimes too. I can’t remember the number of times I thought about taking care of it myself. Just end it all for the benefit of everyone else.

I know, suicidal ideation isn’t healthy. But I’m not healthy either. The thought of it just being done is one I think of every so often. It would mean an absence of pain. An absence of heartache for others. A better world. But then I snap back to a selfish state of mind and think about how I don’t want to die. It’s fleeting, but it’s there. Another thing is passive suicidal ideation. This article describes it best. But it’s neither here nor there sometimes. Do I want to write another post for my blog, or would I be just as content if something happened and took my life?

I’m not trying to make excuses for my behavior by blaming it on my mental illness, because there are many times when I have been fully present but decided to take the less positive approach. This also applies to every relationship in my life because my mental illness does not discriminate. I’ll fuck up any relationship. Give me stability any day and my mind will turn it into a black ooze. I feel like a succubus sometimes. Sometimes I think the one thing I am on this planet for is to drain as many emotions out of other people as possible.

I know it’s tiring for the people who have to deal with me, but I’m exhausted too. I question going on constantly. My body and mind are destroyed. I find it hard to see the happy. It’s not because of other people, it’s all me and this fucked up mind of mine. The one that burns bridges, burns feelings, burns people. I just wish I could be normal. I’d give anything in this world to be like you. To just be sane.