Welcome to the Jungle

Sometimes when I'm depressed, even paying extra attention while I brush my hair or take a shower is enough to relieve some of the mental anguish and remind myself I have a body.

DEPRESSION PLAYLIST
gangsta rap to remind you how tough and badass you are
sad songs that help you feel your emotions without making you wanna kill yourself
Tibetan chanting—calming and soothing, and you don't need to understand the words
companionable songs that feel like old friends, like “Pack Up Your Sorrows” by Mimi and Richard Farina, to keep you company if you feel lonely.
electro music with a steady beat that helps your mind dissolve. (Electro music also makes great walking music.)
Hypomania/Mania Playlist
ragas
music with binaural beats to slow your mind down and help you sleep
slow music to help keep you from speeding while you're driving
happy songs that help you enjoy your high
fugues by J. S. Bach: your increased focus will help you hear all sorts of connections and patterns you never heard before.
the Goldberg Variations by J. S. Bach: they were written as a cure for a king's insomnia and are intended to be calming.

Music is powerful. It can make your brain light up and twinkle when you thought you would never smile again, or it can soothe you to sleep when you're too agitated to close your eyes. Plus, the music you listen to will inevitably affect your mental narrative. Years later, you'll stumble across the music you listened to when you were first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and, just like when you hear the song they played at your junior prom, you'll find yourself swimming in nostalgia. (Whenever I hear Modest Mouse, I get flashbacks of rainy all-night bike rides and can practically smell the old house I used to live in.)

When I get depressed, I weep and feel intensely guilty for not being famous. I feel, insanely, that my not being famous is letting down a slew of imaginary onlookers who are very, very disappointed at my lack of progress. Fame—not marriage, money, or happiness—is the ultimate endgame. On the other side of the coin, when I'm hypomanic I feel very optimistic that my (trivial) day-to-day activities and projects have a famous flavor to them.

There's a collective fantasy of fame and urgency: you have to be someone, and you have to eat, drink, buy, or do something stimulating at all times.

If you have no purpose in life, going into the wilderness gives you an instant purpose: survival. Your only job, from day to day, is to take care of your basic needs for food, water, shelter, and heat, and your only company is yourself. You have plenty of time and opportunity to observe the changing nature of nature itself. You witness a sunrise and sunset every morning and evening. You see clouds forming, dropping rain, and breaking into blue sky. Your body feels keenly how the day starts out cool, warms up gradually, and cools down again as it turns to evening—something you might never feel if you spend all your time in a climate-controlled environment. If you're near the ocean, you witness the tide going in and out each day. The moon changes a little bit each night. And the plants and animals around you change visibly too. Even over the course of a single week, you can watch a seedling sprout out of its pod, a flower bloom, berries ripen, the progression of a bird's nest or beaver's dam being built.

Being “crazy” is a great excuse to speak your mind and ask awkward questions—it can even be a catalyst for taking big steps like coming out of the closet. You can use bipolar as an excuse for cracking open taboo issues in your life, and if doing so completely backfires, just blame it on the mania!

Non-responsiveness
You've reached out to them, and all you get is radio static. If you bring up your bipolar disorder, one of your parents changes the subject abruptly. “Don't they understand what a big deal this is?” you wonder.
Non-responsiveness is probably the most confusing reaction you can get from a parent, because it gives you nothing to chew on, lean on, or even fight against. Some parents just have a hard time talking about sensitive things,—or they're afraid you'll get mad if they ask you questions. The best thing you can do in this situation is to keep on being open and communicative, and not get frustrated by their perceived lack of response. Maintaining this stance is not easy, but at least it's not destructive. Some parents eventually come around and open up about it, and with others the subject of mental illness remains a closed book. In the latter case, it's especially important to find a friend or counselor with whom you can spill your guts about your moods and meds.

Social scumduggery
You're not best friends with your coworkers. In fact, they're the most obnoxious, vicious, ignorant gang of villains you've ever met. They have no idea where you're coming from and frequently make you cry. Oh yeah, and you're supposed to go out for drinks with them after work.

Do you even need a traditional job? There are other ways of supporting yourself than slaving away for a boss or company that doesn't know you exist. Aren't people with bipolar more creative than usual? More resourceful than usual? More willing to take risks than usual?