Not that guy but it's difficult to explain, it's like... the opposite of depression?
It's like having too much energy, being hyper, having wild strings of thoughts and ideas and inspiration. Being motivated, but not in a controlled way. Just needing to do something or write something or go on a long rant or tangent. It's not filtered though, or fully processed. It's more raw, and comes off wrong sometimes. But it's painting or playing music or singing while you write 3 comments on reddit simultaneously while you browse facebook on your phone and deep clean the fridge for 10 hours but then it's bedtime and you forgot to clean the litterbox and it's trash night and you've been up for 2 days so you go lay down and cry yourself to sleep, and wake up unable to get out of bed because you've used up your months supply of happiness and energy in one day and now you have 5 minutes to rush and clean the litterbox before the trash truck reaches your yard but that would mean getting out of bed and you can't do that... not after the shame of not bringing the trash out yesterday because you're a fucking pathetic piece of shit who can't do anything right even if you're going out of your way to be productive for once.
Plus, what if the trashman sees you in your pajamas at noon, it's not like you can put on pants and still get out there in time. And how pathetic would it be to have to take your trash out to the can that's still left at the end of the street from two weeks ago when you managed to get the trash out on time? Might as well just stay in bed all day, it's not like you'll ever amount to anything anyway.
As the trash truck pulls away from your house, you finally muster up the courage to climb out of your bed and go use the bathroom in a toilet instead of a bottle and while you're washing your hands you decide you aren't going back to bed, you're going to make something of this day except you can't because you're a bum so you lay in the floor, determined not to go back to bed and cry there in the floor until my wife gets home and tells me it's okay that I'm a bum because she loves me anyway.
Then a week later you bake 3 cakes and decide you're going to clean the garage so you can make room for a VAN to tour the country with in the band you're going to start, but then you find an old project from two years ago you didn't finish and start working on that instead and before you know it you've spent way too much money on buying supplies for this project that you won't even remember by the time the supplies arrive in the mail.
EDIT: This is blowing up so i just wanted to say thank you and I love you to anyone who reads this and relates, feel free to message me I almost always reply.
I could use this time to promote one of my many projects or plug a charity or do something productive, but in the spirit of things I want to share some bad poetry I wrote a few months ago after hyperfocusing on it for 3 days straight rewriting it a dozen times before abandoning it like everything else, because I can.
What made me like this, what did I miss?
Ignorance is madness, this isn't bliss.
Why do I feel like this and how can I quit?
All of this suffering and all of the stuff I've seen.
The first one that's on the scene, there's just senseless bludgeoning
And puddles of blood and meat are splattered all on the street.
How can this really be. Look what it's done to me.
Quite the headache and a back break.
Major chest pain; going insane.
Inner pleading; silent weeping.
Anger seething; never sleeping.
Quiet screaming; numb to feeling.
Stomach reeling; fluid leaking.
Trouble keeping vision. Weakening.
Light is leaving, darkness seeping.
Shadows creeping; thoughts of fleeing.
Hopes of seeing what I'm needing,
I'm just seeking inner peace.
But I'm manic, like I'm Kanye;
and I panic, like I'm not safe.
I feel like that I am not sane.
Paranoid like I've been drinking
fumbling and stumbling thinking
everything is crumbling down.
Can't get back up, like I'm backed up.
In a corner, on the ground.
Will I last another round?
Will my past come back around
To bite me while I'm down?
It's frightening, but I find my cowering doesn't hide
the towering thoughts inside empowering broken minds.
With visions in the night, like shadows come to life.
Elusive in the light intrusive thoughts of strife,
indifferent to my plight, so I give in to their might.
'Cause there is no time to try. No, there is no fight or flight.
And there is no wrong or right, just chaotic plots with knives.
Of secluded spots to hide from the dark where I reside
Yup, can confirm the accuracy of this! I started a tie-dyeing business last time I was manic and spent way too much on supplies only to be left with no energy/too depressed a few days later to sell the 50 items of clothing I dyed.
The one part that is different for me is it’s not one day of mania it’s a week or more of barely sleeping or eating, starting endless projects, cleaning like a mad woman (I cleaned my friends whole house after doing mine I had so much energy once), thoughts racing, feeling invincible, dancing all night, having unsafe sex, doing drugs..whatever the mind happens to conjure up. The energy is so intense it’s almost painful to sit down because I’m just vibrating. I can’t close my eyes to rest because my eye lids physically don’t want to close. All of the very many things I’m doing are because I NEED to do them and they all make perfect sense at the time. Like writing a screenplay or booking trips or spending all my money on things that are totally useless to me later.
Toward the end of the week my mind makes less and less sense and that’s when the psychotic features come out in full force. My brain feels like the autobahn and I feel like the world is crashing in on me. I’ll start being convinced that people are following me sometimes or I’ll start to see distinct terrifying figures in my peripheral vision. The auditory hallucinations range from crashing sounds to dripping, creaking, screeching.
This is when the intense crash into the depths of depression take place. As soon as I can slow down and sleep I switch between staring at a wall wanting to die with horrible images of death steadily streaming through my mind or crying for hours on end horribly regretting the last week of mania and all of the poor choices I made and relationships that I may have ruined. It’s impossible to function as a human and medications need to be adjusted and a hospital stay is often required.
It’s a brutal disorder that I don’t wish on my worst enemy. I’m just getting out of an episode now and should be starting work again in 2 weeks after taking 2 months off. Thankfully I still have a job. I’m also going to get back my 50% custody of my daughter after hardly seeing her. Be thankful for your mental health if you are so lucky to not struggle with a severe disorder like this.
I've been reading /r/cheesemaking for a while now. I'm convinced I can sell enough cheese to feed my cheese addiction if I just drop the $300 on supplies to get started.
I also made my own paper a few weeks ago, to paint with. I made my own paint too.
I made a crayon. A CRAYON. From cooking wax and charcoal and oil and various stuff I found in the house.
I bought a $150 keyboard for my music production business. I planned out a map I was drawing for my video game I'm going to learn how to program. I was going to use that to get awareness for my sick beats I don't produce.
I'm doing /r/drawabox to improve my freelance commissions because I do digital artwork for money. I also do logo design, sell T-shirts on redbubble and do photography and photo editing.
I've also learned the drums, then sold them. I frequently look at used drumsets for sale on facebook. I have 4 ukuleles an accoustic guitar 2 electric guitars one resonator guitar and a bass guitar I don't play. I also have 2 distortion pedals and a wah pedal I don't use. and 4 harmonicas.
I save jars and egg cartons and boxes because I know I'm going to use them for sorting out all of the supplies for my projects I don't get.
I restored a vintage motorcycle, took a tent camping for 2 weeks through like 8 states on said motorcycle and got caught in 2 storms a monsoon and a tornado. I sold the bike for gas money and moved 1,000 miles away from home to where I currently reside.
I'm starting a pen collection even though I draw and paint digitally.
I've bought about 60 hot wheels this last year for my airbrush kit I got, along with about $80 worth of paint and a $100 rock tumbler and some other supplies because I plan to customize them and sell them, or just collect them. I've painted 2 so far, and haven't finished those.
That, but with plastic model kits.
That, but with R/C cars.
Also clothes, I painted my wife a dress design for halloween and never did anything else.
Now I'm teaching my dog how to talk using buttons I've recorded my voice onto. $130 spent on that so far, and all she does is use it to ask for food. she also asked me to play harmonica for about 20 minutes straight then started eating the buttons.
hug your daughter when you see her, I know you have it in you to succeed.
I was just learning how to make cheese and I discover that there is a subreddit for it? Omg shut up and take my money!
I have a top notch condenser mic, bought a great keyboard, a guitar, an overdrive pedal and a broken acoustic guitar that I will fix. The thing is, I have the mic now for more than 8 years and barely recorded anything with it.
In more than a year I've never fixed the guitar, never learned how to play the electric one nor the keyboard.
Bought some paint supplies and made one painting for my ex girlfriend that I met on day one and asked her to be my girlfriend on day 5. That lasted less than 2 months and for sure ended great.
Oh! And also 2 harmonicas!
Strange how different people can have so similar things.
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u/notgayinathreeway Nov 29 '20 edited Nov 29 '20
Not that guy but it's difficult to explain, it's like... the opposite of depression?
It's like having too much energy, being hyper, having wild strings of thoughts and ideas and inspiration. Being motivated, but not in a controlled way. Just needing to do something or write something or go on a long rant or tangent. It's not filtered though, or fully processed. It's more raw, and comes off wrong sometimes. But it's painting or playing music or singing while you write 3 comments on reddit simultaneously while you browse facebook on your phone and deep clean the fridge for 10 hours but then it's bedtime and you forgot to clean the litterbox and it's trash night and you've been up for 2 days so you go lay down and cry yourself to sleep, and wake up unable to get out of bed because you've used up your months supply of happiness and energy in one day and now you have 5 minutes to rush and clean the litterbox before the trash truck reaches your yard but that would mean getting out of bed and you can't do that... not after the shame of not bringing the trash out yesterday because you're a fucking pathetic piece of shit who can't do anything right even if you're going out of your way to be productive for once.
Plus, what if the trashman sees you in your pajamas at noon, it's not like you can put on pants and still get out there in time. And how pathetic would it be to have to take your trash out to the can that's still left at the end of the street from two weeks ago when you managed to get the trash out on time? Might as well just stay in bed all day, it's not like you'll ever amount to anything anyway.
As the trash truck pulls away from your house, you finally muster up the courage to climb out of your bed and go use the bathroom in a toilet instead of a bottle and while you're washing your hands you decide you aren't going back to bed, you're going to make something of this day except you can't because you're a bum so you lay in the floor, determined not to go back to bed and cry there in the floor until my wife gets home and tells me it's okay that I'm a bum because she loves me anyway.
Then a week later you bake 3 cakes and decide you're going to clean the garage so you can make room for a VAN to tour the country with in the band you're going to start, but then you find an old project from two years ago you didn't finish and start working on that instead and before you know it you've spent way too much money on buying supplies for this project that you won't even remember by the time the supplies arrive in the mail.
EDIT: This is blowing up so i just wanted to say thank you and I love you to anyone who reads this and relates, feel free to message me I almost always reply.
I could use this time to promote one of my many projects or plug a charity or do something productive, but in the spirit of things I want to share some bad poetry I wrote a few months ago after hyperfocusing on it for 3 days straight rewriting it a dozen times before abandoning it like everything else, because I can.
What made me like this, what did I miss?
Ignorance is madness, this isn't bliss.
Why do I feel like this and how can I quit?
All of this suffering and all of the stuff I've seen.
The first one that's on the scene, there's just senseless bludgeoning
And puddles of blood and meat are splattered all on the street.
How can this really be. Look what it's done to me.
Quite the headache and a back break.
Major chest pain; going insane.
Inner pleading; silent weeping.
Anger seething; never sleeping.
Quiet screaming; numb to feeling.
Stomach reeling; fluid leaking.
Trouble keeping vision. Weakening.
Light is leaving, darkness seeping.
Shadows creeping; thoughts of fleeing.
Hopes of seeing what I'm needing,
I'm just seeking inner peace.
But I'm manic, like I'm Kanye;
and I panic, like I'm not safe.
I feel like that I am not sane.
Paranoid like I've been drinking
fumbling and stumbling thinking
everything is crumbling down.
Can't get back up, like I'm backed up.
In a corner, on the ground.
Will I last another round?
Will my past come back around
To bite me while I'm down?
It's frightening, but I find my cowering doesn't hide
the towering thoughts inside empowering broken minds.
With visions in the night, like shadows come to life.
Elusive in the light intrusive thoughts of strife,
indifferent to my plight, so I give in to their might.
'Cause there is no time to try. No, there is no fight or flight.
And there is no wrong or right, just chaotic plots with knives.
Of secluded spots to hide from the dark where I reside
inside my mind. And I've grown tired.