I often encounter difficulty when trying to explain to others what it's like to be bipolar. Today I'm going to attempt to explain it with a metaphor that's been rattling around in my head.

Imagine an outline of a person. This is a representation of self-image.

It is my impression that most people have a fairly defined image of themselves. Who they think they are, what they believe, how they behave. This may change over time, but at any given moment it is generally defined.

Now image multiple outlines superimposed in a way that they overlap, like a Venn diagram.

For me, being bipolar is like being multiple people that are similar but different. Overlapping versions of myself, where the common ground is "me".

Now imagine the diagram isn't stationary. The outlines shift, sometimes as a whole, sometimes individually. Sometimes they move inward, overlapping more, creating a more cohesive and centrally defined image. Sometimes they move outwards, losing cohesion and becoming more individually distinct. Sometimes the whole thing kaleidoscopes, losing all sense of definition and structure, becoming a distortion of the original image.

This is what it's like to be bipolar.

Bipolar disorder is often represented by, or thought of, as mood swings. This is reductive. The term mood disorder itself can be misleading. What a person with bipolar disorder experiences is not just shifts in mood, but shifts in personality as well. The way we behave, and the way we think, changes. Sometimes rapidly, unpredictably, and erratically. It's not just a matter of how we're feeling at any given time.

My self-image is not clearly defined. How I view myself, what I think, and how I act are partially, or greatly, dependent on the level of certain chemicals in my brain.

But I am still me. The different outlines are all David. Or Davey. Or whatever variation it is that you have chosen to refer to me by. They are all different, yet they are all the same.

Truth be told, this probably isn't a very good metaphor. But it's what I've got.