Good mood or mania?

"I wonder if I've been depressed for so long, that happiness feels like mania." (Notes archive; November 28, 2018 at 7:57 a.m.) 

It was, in fact, mania. But it can be hard to tell the difference between the two at times. This was before my bipolar disorder diagnosis. I believe that was one of the times I stayed up the whole night, basking in the glory. Looking back on it now, I think I was at least having symptoms, if not already having an episode. Is it possible I was happy in that moment, and the mania was triggered by my desire to be awake for it? Or has every elated feeling come from some deeply rooted problem? I hate the idea of robbing myself of the moments in my life that feel good for once. I think I've struggled so much for so long that it is hard to tell which is mania and which is the absence of pain. In the same way depression can make me feel numb to anything joyful, mania can make me feel numb to anything painful. So when I experience moments of bliss, is it me being my true self living my best life with nothing getting in the way of that because I've found ways to cope with issues and feel good finally having peace of mind and body and spirit? Or is there something wrong with me? There may be no way to know for sure. I've practiced trusting that good moods occur without the presence of illness, because I deserve to have them and have worked so hard to. And if it is mania, all I can do is whatever people say I'm supposed to, in order to manage the symptoms and mitigate the damage. As long as I am sleeping, eating, taking my medications, talking with my doctor and/or therapist, letting people around me know or asking how I seem to them, and being aware of my condition (what I'm thinking about, how I'm feeling, what I'm doing)... then does it really matter why I feel good? I have allowed bipolar disorder and the fear of being manic to be a thief of joy at times, so I might as well allow myself to feel good when it's really mania. And if it's one of those times I can't tell the difference, I might as well enjoy it while I can, before it turns into an actual episode, or in case it really is just a natural human emotion. I sometimes forget I'm a person. For a long time, I've defined my feelings by what they're classified as in the clinical world. I remember the outpatient therapist noticing this. He said when I first came to group therapy, I didn't describe how I felt. He said I analyzed my state using all the terms I've learned in psychology classes or from past counselors. Instead of saying, "I feel angry," I would talk about the symptoms associated with acute stress disorder, which is what I was diagnosed with in the hospital stay immediately prior to outpatient. During a rough time - or should I say, most of the time - I pretend things are better than they are because I'm sick of having to be honest and give the same answer to people who lovingly ask. I know they're checking in, and I appreciate it. It isn't that I don't want people to ask. It's that I want to have a different answer for once. So sometimes I lie so as to not break down. Sometimes I sugar-coat my answer because it's not the time to go into gruesome detail about what's going on inside. And sometimes I tell the truth because it feels better knowing someone knows, and it takes too much energy to keep concealed. Sometimes these people are perfect strangers. Somehow that's sometimes better because I know they won't worry, and I don't worry about them to the point of wanting to shield them from my wounds. Sometimes it's a proclamation on social media, because I've grown tired of fake positivity and toxic artificiality. I want to post something real, and I want to get it out there instead of keeping it in here. During periods of extreme stress, I tend to neglect my needs. And that often results in a manic episode because I'm going, going, going. I have this urge to be as productive as those around me. I already feel behind in life and that I'm not measuring up to my own potential, and it's worse when I compare myself not only to what I could be doing but also to what everyone else is doing. I have to remind myself I'm going as quickly as I can, I'm doing the best I can, and I'm a different person with completely unique circumstances. Just because the people in arm's reach aren't experiencing this doesn't mean I'm the only one who does. I'm not alone, and I need to find more people who relate to my reality so I don't feel crazy. Because, in truth, I'm not. There's just this abstract imbalance inside my brain and body that makes them not work right. The sickness isn't me. Although, it sure as hell looks like me. So I have to take care of myself during times like this. And in another post, I'll go into all the reasons behind thinking I need to "take care" of others: codependent tendencies, being an enneagram type 2, being a highly sensitive person, being an ENFP personality type, being an empath, and so on. But I can't take care of others when I'm in need of care, and the people who love me don't want me to sacrifice my well-being for them. If I can do something not at the expense of myself, great. But I have to direct my desire to help others inward. I've learned I'm allowed to say no, setting boundaries is healthy, and that not taking responsibility for other people doesn't make me a bad person. I have done so much out of obligation that it's freeing to realize I don't have to. My whole life, I've told myself, "I should do this. I should do that." Now I'm telling myself, "I shouldn't, if this isn't good for me. If I don't want to or need to, I don't have to." I'm still practicing this and unlearning a lifetime of doing something solely for others that takes something away from myself, but the practice is worth it. "Can" doesn't always mean "will" or "should". I am in need of help, and that is something I can give myself. When I focus on others instead of myself, it doesn't take long before I'm going, going, gone. I lose myself in the process of trying to be there for others. And it's humbling to realize I am clearly not in a position to do that. Sometimes I am. Now is not one of those times. I have other things to tend to.