Author: Matthew Palmieri
There’s nothing quite like the rush of a manic episode—the clarity, the boundless energy, the feeling of being untouchable. Ideas come faster than I can process them. Sleep becomes optional. Music hits differently. The world feels like it’s opening up just for me, like it’s been waiting for me to catch up.
Yet, as thrilling as it is, I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone.
The truth about managing bipolar disorder often aligns with the old adage: the higher you climb, the harder you fall.
What inevitably happens is that mania pushes me too far. My judgment becomes clouded, and what was once exhilarating turns into an intolerable state—for both myself and those around me.
And when the crash comes, it’s often devastating.
I reorient myself to baseline, but it’s a process—one that involves dialing in proper medication, seeing a new therapist, and sometimes changing jobs. The result? An even darker outlook on life and the stability I need to maintain any sense of sanity. Gone are the carefree days of mania.
The fallout from this crash is complicated: shame (a lot of it), confusion, and a pervasive disappointment. I find myself wondering why life can’t stay as exciting as mania promised.
It can feel like I’m being punished for my reckless behavior.
There’s no sugar-coating it: the aftermath of mania can be intensely dark. Even when I’ve reached euthymia (a stable mood), I still have to face the fact that I’ve likely damaged things—relationships, trust, and most often, my own sense of self-worth.
Through my battle with bipolar disorder, particularly in the earliest years when I was in denial about what was happening, I’ve learned a few things that have helped me manage the cyclical nature of this illness.
1. Mania Can Sometimes Hold a Kernel of Truth
Just because something felt real and attainable during mania doesn’t necessarily mean it was a delusion. Sometimes, within the chaos of mania, there’s a glimmer of insight or an opportunity that might bring me closer to my goals than I’d expect under more balanced circumstances. I’ve achieved things during manic episodes that have inspired me later on down the road. I try not to beat myself up about my thoughts during mania. Yes, I may have gone overboard, but sometimes, there’s wisdom buried in that whirlwind.
2. Apologies Are Necessary, But So Is Self-Compassion
Apologizing for my actions during a manic episode is important, but I also need to make sure I’m at the top of that apology list. I wasn’t in my right mind. It’s vital to understand that my behavior wasn’t a true reflection of who I am, but rather a result of being unwell. Imagine if I were running a race and tore my Achilles halfway through—would I blame myself the way I do after a manic episode? Mania, and its counterpart, depression, are often the result of chemical imbalances in my brain. It’s not a moral failing. Sometimes, I just have to accept that my body, and my mind, aren’t functioning the way I wish they would.
3. The Downturn Feels Like Grief
Coming down from mania and finding stability feels like grieving. The shift can be so drastic that it’s hard to reconcile what I’ve just experienced with what I’m left with. It can take a long time to find my footing again, and often, there’s a residue—a lingering sadness, perhaps even shame—that’s hard to shake. It’s not something that can be resolved with a snap of my fingers, and sometimes, it feels like I’m mourning the loss of a part of myself.
4. Rest Shouldn’t Be Viewed as Weakness
Rest isn’t something to feel bad about. In fact, I’ve learned that allowing myself the space to unwind and work a “normal” job (whatever that means) is essential. It’s through embracing relaxation, taking time to myself, and practicing balance that I’m able to regain the strength I need to face life’s everyday challenges. Rest is part of the process.
Embracing the Cycles
Living with bipolar disorder means living in cycles. No matter how extreme things may feel in the moment, I know they won’t last forever. This truth is particularly important when managing a mental illness as unpredictable as bipolar. What’s helped me avoid long-term devastation is a holistic approach to treatment: exercise, therapy, and a strict adherence to medication.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to give myself patience and grace. The ups and downs may never completely go away, but I’ve grown to understand that while I may not always catch the high before it spirals, I can soften the fall when it comes.
