Ok guys,

Here is the part where I tell you a story about myself so that you can learn from what happened, feel better, think I'm an idiot, or however you choose to interpret this anecdote from my sordid life. There is something you should know about me. I had a bad ex boyfriend. Like, move to a different state bad. Let's call him BB.

BB was unlike anyone I had ever met and we fell for each other quickly and hard. He was your quintessential bad boy; sexy, charming, funny, zero ambition. It was like a fairytale- girl meets boy, boy gives girl a drinking problem, boy emotionally abuses girl, girl ends up in the psychiatric ward. This was my nightmare for two. fucking. years. What did I see in someone who verbally abused me, isolated me from my family and friends, and made me feel like no one else would love me, ever again? This is the question that therapists, my parents, and the people who care about me wracked their brains to answer. Things got so bad that I had to take incompletes in all of my classes until I could finish my school work over the summer. I took a deep breath and got the hell out of Dodge (what does that even mean? where is Dodge?) the first chance I got. But BB wouldn't quit. He always found a way to get to me and there was some ridiculous part of me that just couldn't let him go despite all of the logic in the world. He was my addiction. If you've ever struggled with an addiction, you know that it controls you and you'll do anything to keep it. I can't even tell you how many times I was "done" with him and blatantly lied to loved ones about it. I can't really put into words what that addiction cost me but I am here today to tell you that I am free of BB and for the first time, I can look at myself in the mirror and respect the person looking back at me. 

Things would usually go a little something like this: I'd go back to my home state to visit family, tell everyone I wouldn't see him, lie my ass off and go see him. Every single time. And every single time it was exactly the same, crushingly disastrous experience. This is how guys like BB work. They give you a little something, promise you the world, then take it all away once you come crawling back. "Maybe this time will be different!" you think, even though you know it never is. One of the members of my super hero mental health team once explained to me the difference between rational brain and emotional brain. EX: Emotional brain says I love him and I want to see him and some day we'll be together. Rational brain says he is a raging douchebag piece of garbage who will never change and I will feel like shit. See the difference? Yeah, I know, the second one doesn't sound totally deranged. I spent two years in emotional brain la la land. Until last week, that is. It may sound unremarkable but here it is: I went home and I did not see him. Not even once. This is a big fucking deal, you guys! Nothing compares to the accomplishment of kicking an addiction in the ass. Did he beg me? Did he say mean things to try to manipulate me? Oh hell yes. But it didn't work this time and now I get to go to my team of super heroes and tell them that I quit smoking the BB crack. And that feels waaay better than hate sex, which is saying something. 

This is really important, you guys. If any of that stuff sounds familiar, you are most likely in an unhealthy, abusive relationship. He doesn't have to hit you for a relationship to be abusive! You need to run away as fast as you can and ask for help. I know its embarrassing but trust me, you don't want to spend YEARS asking yourself why he doesn't treat you right. Not to mention being made to feel ashamed of a mental illness that does not define you by any means. Think about it, what's really crazy? Someone who struggles with emotion regulation? Or someone who gets off on making someone else feel like dog shit? (Hint: its the second one)  I thought I'd never say no to BB but I did. And you can tell your BB to fuck off too! Trust me, you'll be glad you did.

Love,

BB Free QB

Let's talk about S-E-X

Like it or not, the urge to have lots of sex is a big part of being bipolar. In books, they like to list the symptom as "sexual promiscuity" but if you ask me, that is just ROOD. You and I like to pretend that we live in a world where we can have casual, meaningless sex with whoever we want, never lose the respect of others and never feel bad about ourselves because we are sexually liberated women!!! Sometimes, when I'm manic, I really believe that to be true. Bad news girls: this is a lie we tell ourselves so that we can justify our urge to indulge in the rush or "high" of sex.

 Enter Manic Me: I'm home alone on a Friday night. My thoughts are racing and I feel like going out and finding some trouble to get into. I put on my make up, squeeze into something sexy, stumble into my heels and head out the door. Fast forward to 1 am. I've either lost or ditched my friends, my head is spinning from just a little too much sauce and my heart is pounding from adrenaline, my manic brain, and possibly some No No Powder. I see a guy I think is hot, snap my fingers and POOF we're talking, we're making out, we're leaving, were entering an apartment and I have no idea where I am. One thing leads to another and suddenly I'm wide awake with alcohol-induced anxiety hours later. It's dark with the shades pulled down, he's sleeping, I think "Run Run Run." Now I'm lighting up a cigarette and speed walking to the subway, blinking in the daylight. I barely remember. I didn't give him my number because I don't care if he calls me. Don't care if he liked me. Don't care if I ever see him again. "I won," i think to myself, as if sex is a casual game played between two strangers. I tell myself that I am powerful, that men are just saps that I can manipulate. But guess who's finally home, mascara strewn face throwing up into the toilet? Miss "Ladies is Pimps Too."

Promise me you won't be this girl. Real power is feeling good about yourself for the RIGHT reasons, not because you can get some dirty skeeze to take you home. Let's face it, guys are pretty gross and they aren't out at the bar looking for their future wife. Whether you're in high school, college, whatever. People will talk about you. Boys won't respect you. Girls won't want to be friends with you. "But I have an overactive sex drive! I'm like a guy!" Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Go buy yourself a vibrator. Trust me, you'll never be staring at your phone wondering if your vibrator is ever going to text you after the great time you had. Unless you got one of those really expensive ones...

Your horny pal,

QB