My neighbours are moving.
Not just one of them, several.
I think it’s my fault.
Rationally I know it’s not because of me, but thoughts like these are the kinds of things that plague someone with bipolar.
Especially when mania takes over.
The neighbours are moving because we didn’t fix our pool until late August and their kids couldn’t come and swim.
My loud, exuberant, and sometimes witchy voice, which can be heard by wolves and small dogs, became too much for their sweet family.
I didn’t talk to them enough, didn’t invite them over for tea, I didn’t like the dry bread cake she gave us for Christmas, I should have planted more flowers.
She read my blog.
When mental illness takes you on an emotional rollercoaster you didn’t wait in line for; it can be exhausting, confusing, and lonely.
How do you explain to family and friends the paranoia and feelings that make no sense, even to you?
Jokes about it ease the fear and confusion, but then you sink back into your thoughts where it’s still very real.
They didn’t want cows on their lawn.
Bipolar doesn’t let those affected relax and enjoy life fully. It twists reality into an ugly kaleidoscope, distorting what is real and what is anxiety.
Something as normal as all of the neighbours moving, whether it be due to financial strain, relationships changing, job change, or flipping houses can become disfigured in the mind of someone with bipolar.
They left because of the crazy girl next door.