Manic Episodes and My Sex Drive
I thought I shouldn’t tone it down or sugarcoat it from the get-go, so I might as well be candid about it right from the title. This might come as a shock to some of my friends who’ve known me for years, and for people who seem to see me as of the “goody-two-shoes” kind.
During my last visit to the doctor, I took the opportunity to ask him about the connection of the two. I’ve always felt since the first time I did something out of the normal (you get the drift) that there was a missing link that I haven’t been seeing for the longest time.
True enough, my doctor did tell me the connection of my uncontrolled sex drive with my manic episodes, how it’s one manifestation of it.
Lest I be misunderstood as trying to diminish my accountability in terms of unwanted sex, there’s a grave irresponsibility to it, and my doctor incessantly reminded of it like a broken record which I had to hear over and over, despite my awareness and full knowledge of it.
Yes, we have to be reminded over and over at times, even if we know it very well.
How’d I get to the point of having to muster more than enough courage to confront this matter with my doctor?
Last Sunday, I was feeling feverish almost the entire afternoon, not the type where I was feeling sick, but as if there was some pent up energy that needs releasing, as if a volcano pending an eruption. I thought I’d lie down and take a rest, but I was distraught, restless, and unwilling to stay rested.
I picked up my phone, and started searching for what-have you that I shouldn’t be searching.
Yes, this includes people I should be shying away from but I opted not to.
I then took a bath, and hurriedly left my place at around 630 in the evening to grab dinner and take a stroll at a nearby commercial complex. To be clear, I’m no longer in Manila, but based in Sta. Rosa, Laguna because of my job.
So there I was, walking aimlessly for over an hour, just because that pent up energy wouldn’t die down. I ended up hopping onto a jeep at 8:30 in the evening, and travel to Calamba, Laguna, all 13.1 kilometers of it. I’d probably picture myself to be like a dog that’s salivating while wandering aimlessly.
The reason? I was able to get in touch with a masseur so I could have a massage, and, well, maybe more? I’m not really sure.
I did get my massage, but nothing beyond that.
Was I already scot-free? Not the least bit.
I left Calamba at about half past ten in the evening to travel back to Sta. Rosa, Laguna, only to end up meeting with another masseur just for me to quench that heat, which did happen, but in a way that it shouldn’t have been.
This is what my doctor’s been saying, that it’s done with gross irresponsibility.
Yes, it’s part and parcel of my manic episodes, but that doesn’t deny the fact that how I handled it was inherently wrong.
I could’ve done better.
But to realize that it’s connected to my manic episodes, and that I mustered the courage to open it up to my doctor is a good first step for me.
My doctor now told me that the fight is now all about control. Those manic episodes will keep coming back from time to time, but whether it will continually manifest in the form of strong sexual urges is another matter for the taking. What’s important is to put up that fight for control over how it manifests, and win over it.
I came back to Laguna that day, with both a better sense of awareness, but also certain slump. I’m happy with that stronger sense of awareness, but there was the part of me with that “Why’d I only realize it now?” and “Why’d I only act now?” kind of thinking. I say this because I know that this wasn’t the first time it happened, that it was also one of things that I had to grapple with last year over the course of the hard lockdown, and even before that.
It’s a tiring one, to say the least, especially when the manic episodes subside and the depressive state kicks in hard, sapping me of any energy left in my body. It’s making me lose any drive to do anything, and just want to cower in my own little dark corner and wait for the manic episodes to kick in again.
But it’s better to have realized it now while there’s still time, and to be concretely working on it now, than to keep going at it, only to regret it later.
I don’t know how it’ll play out. I don’t know how difficult it will be this time. I’m honestly afraid and anxious of what this new saga will entail in my fight for my mental well-being.
What I do know is that the real fight begins now, and I have to put up a good one to win over it.
Dealing with bipolar disorder is hard, but I know that I’ll be able to manage it and, one day, become the master over it.
