Bipolar disorder is living your whole life on roller coasters while everyone around you exists as the blur of standing crowd. You didn't choose to get on the ride and you can't understand how you arrived there - all you know is that you can never get off. With each cycle of the track you begin to think perhaps you can predict its path but that is impossible and the climbs and falls tease and terrify. Given enough time you begin to develop coping strategies - you try to hold your breath in the split second of nothingness just before the car crashes down, you try to breathe more and scream less, but such things barely take the edge off. Truths are learnt and you grip the bar just a little tighter on the climb because you know a fall is inevitable. As the ride continues you look down at the crowd and wonder why no one is helping, but they are too far away to understand. Once or twice on the cycle there is level track but the car keeps moving... even here there is no respite... the track is level but it is still part of the roller coaster, still part of the ride, and it keeps moving.
I used to ride extreme roller coasters now I find myself on a much smaller ride - the exhilaration of the climb and the terror of the fall, for the most part,diminished but I am still carried forward. In the past I would happily have jumped from the car in motion just to end the ride but now, most of the time, I am settled to my fate. I know the count of the clicking ascent. I judge the tip point of the fall. I can almost time the turns. Most of all I have learnt to fully appreciate time trundling along level track.