What Sucks About Bipolar

What sucks about having bipolar, I’ve come to realize, is that my creative outbursts only happen when I’m hypomanic. My last episode was in late December 2025 (I believe it was due to quitting THC as I had been stable for a few months at that point); it was at this time that I wanted to open an Etsy shop to sell my jewelry and artwork. I had all the confidence in the world; I just knew I would be successful despite having only 100 followers on Instagram and 367 friends on Facebook. I wanted to sell fused glass earrings and abstract artwork, UV resin earrings, polymer clay earrings (this, by the way, is an incredibly difficult and intricate hobby), and beaded jewelry. I compromised with my husband though, and I proceeded to start a separate Instagram account to show off my art. It now has 14 (!) followers.

Previously, my hypomanic episodes revolved around my business. After going through a few months of therapy, I felt like I was magically better. My therapist had given me a set of mantras which I believed cured me. Among them are “Live the day you’re in” and “Happiness comes from within”. Because I had such high confidence (and grandiose ideas), I decided to file for an LLC to sell apparel embroidered with these quotes. I originally wanted to sell blouses so that people could spread positivity in the workplace. But because it was hard to initially find a vendor, I opted to do print-on-demand hoodies and sweatshirts. This would also cut down on inventory costs. Eventually, though, I would find a blouse vendor and would spend thousands of dollars on these items. (I paid extra to have custom labels, too). Other dumb things I spent my money on: flying in a photographer from out of state for my product photoshoots just because we went to high school together and buying (fake) followers on Instagram. I had gotten scammed so badly that I had to delete my account and start over.

Due to the nature of bipolar disorder (specifically type 2), my episodes would be cyclic. 4-7 days hypomanic, 2 weeks depressed. Over and over. Without fail. Eventually I was able to spot the pattern and bring it up with my psychiatrist. This led to a diagnosis of bipolar in the summer of 2023. This also led me to start on a slew of medications, experimenting with different combinations and dosages until we found something that worked. 

It took until fall of 2025 to finally feel stable. The consequence? I feel like a core part of my personality is missing. I no longer have that creative spark. I no longer get flights of ideas where I want to do all the things. I no longer want to create or sell jewelry. I don’t have one sustained creative hobby; I usually just resort to doing Diamond Dots or paint-by-numbers while I watch TV at night. These are easy to do and require little to no thought; you’re simply following the pattern on the canvas. I used to get spurts of creative energy (when I was hypomanic) where I felt like going to the glass studio, playing around with resin molds, or making earrings out of clay. But ever since I’ve gotten stable, I haven’t gotten those sparks. I have, however, started taking a beading class, and I find bead stringing to be fun. It’s low-stress and allows me to be slightly creative by coming up with patterns and color combinations.

The one downside to beading, though, is that it is very easy to spend a lot of money – and this makes me fear for future episodes. I recently went to a bead show and spent over $100 on beads. Then, after learning how to make a bracelet with leather cord in class, I proceeded to buy my own. When it came in the mail, I realized it was too thick for the beads I had, so I spent $75 on more beads. There have also been a few other impulsive purchases this month, so I fear that I am experiencing a mild episode. However, my sleep has been unaffected, I am not highly confident, and I don’t have the urge to start an Etsy, so I don’t think this is a true episode.

As always, I will need to monitor my symptoms, warning signs, and triggers to catch an episode early. Catching it early allows me to meet with my psychiatrist to adjust my meds. I really wish I was “normal” – whatever that may mean – so that I don’t have to be vigilant and worried everyday. And maybe that’s the hardest part – not the episodes themselves, but the in-between, where I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.