Just recently I was called a bipolar psycho bitch. It was from a reader that didn’t like what I had to say in one of my recent blogs. She said that if she asked my ex husband he would probably say that I was one. Truth is, he probably would and truth be told I’ve been called worse. You name it, I’ve been called it. I actually didn’t think I was particularly bitchy in that blog. I was just telling it like it is. If she really wants, and my husband strongly recommends that she doesn’t, I can show her exactly what kind of psycho bitch I really can be. Don’t get me wrong, I am not bragging. People have told me that they are afraid of me when I am mad. I’m not proud that I can lose my shit. When I say lose it, I mean lose it. I can tear a person apart and they won’t even know what hit them. You want to see mean? I will use every misgiving God ever gave you to make you feel like a little ant and I am lightening fast with come backs. I will reduce you to tears. Don’t cross me. I don’t threaten people, I warn them. Don’t unleash the wrath. I’m kinda like the Hulk and I will smash you. I used to have a little more control over my anger. My whole life I’ve had a short fuse. I’m not going to blame it on my Irish decent or that my mother has a relatively short temper. I’ll own it. My ex husband said that I have a fuse at both ends so it burned twice as fast. I started noticing a difference in my anger around the time I was diagnosed. It felt different inside. Before, I would get mad, yell, cry and then calm down relatively easy. I didn’t really feel much guilt about getting mad. Now, I get mad, explode, and have to go off by myself to calm down. My insides feel like they are on fire and I feel terrible about the path of destruction I left behind. For me irritability comes in the brink of a hypomanic episode, during depressive episodes, and like most women, during PMS. I may get upset other times like normal people, but I can usually control it. During an episode I have absolutely no control. If you make me mad, the bomb goes off. One time, before I was diagnosed, I had a psychotic episode. I went with my friends to where my husband worked to rent a movie. He and I weren’t getting along and I was already very upset with him. On my way out the door, I apparently lost it. I don’t remember what was said. All I remember is my friend walking me out the door. She told my friend in the car that she saw my head literally spin around. I talk about the experience as my “out of body” experience. My friend laughs about it now, but was very concerned at the time. My ex-husband described living with me as always “walking on eggshells.” Now if anyone makes me mad, I try to walk away from the situation. I don’t like to lose it. Medication and walking helps. Anything to get out the negative energy. Blogging helps a lot. I get my frustrations out and then I don’t dwell on them anymore. I am also contemplating yoga. I am hoping that it will also calm my anxiety as well as calm the demon inside me. I don’t blame bipolar for having anger. I blame it for my complete and utter lack of control. It sucks for me because I love to fight for what I believe in. My husband will debate with me and sometimes I get a little loud. He says, “Calm down, don’t get mad.” Don’t confuse my passion for being angry. I’m loud, I like to be heard. That doesn’t mean I’m mad. I have a bad habit of talking louder if I think someone isn’t listening to me. You will know when I’m mad. It is unmistakable. Now that I know where it is coming from, I am working on making it better. Baby steps will make it a reality.