Also known as: posey
Greetings Bipolar Sufferers and Supporters: Real Time w/ Miss Bipolar Bitch: Around And Around I Go! An African American Woman Admits to Being Manic-Depressive is a short memoir expressing my life-long bouts of depression, mania and unfortunately the downfalls of mistaken diagnosis. I must begin by assuring you that I did not choose the title of this book because I take pleasure in the term “bitchâ€. Trust me. I don’t. Through reading blogs on the internet, I learned that the “world†defines bipolar sufferers as “bipolar bitchesâ€. And since I am one of the millions of people who struggle with bipolar disease, I know firsthand what it means to be referred to or defined as a “bitchâ€. I included the word “Bitch†as a representation and a reminder of the many, many years I allowed depression, mania and my vivid sins to define me. Once I made the decision to write this book, I began a journey of self-examination, self-reflection, and ultimately, self-acceptance. In the beginning, I constantly fretted over details, such as the title of the book, whether or not to put my face on the cover, and whether or not to extend total honesty. I also feared the possibility of African Americans being offended by this material. As you may know, we can often be our own worst critics! Early on, I resented everything pertaining to bipolar disorder. I was the “bitch†who wanted to be unleashed and unapologetic. Therefore, I only wanted to speak out on behalf of other bipolar sufferers. Upon writing a few chapters I asked myself, “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?†Did I really expect to reach an audience of sharp, open-minded people with a memoir that literally reeked of bitterness? Of course not! I had to change the "tone" of my message and the title several times. Thankfully, with each revision, I matured greatly! Consequently, I agonized over the possibility of embarrassing my family, losing my present beau, and damaging my friendships. I feared exposing my own hidden hypocrisies, double standards, promiscuity, marijuana use, hatred towards racist people, self-hatred, contempt, conditional love, lack of forgiveness toward self and others, plotting to take the life of a child molester and thoughts of suicide. I cringed at the thought of being labeled a “suga-mamaâ€, and yes, to being a “sex-fiend†during the manic phase. (See Chapter 10, on Hanky Panky). Wow! Did I leave anything out? My confessions were certain to place me among the “D-Listersâ€. And in many ways, this honest, gut—wrenching assessment of my life as a bipolar sufferer has ripped my heart wide open! Â
