It’s beginning to feel like I am doing this. Like I’m in charge of my bipolar disorder. I am destroying my life and hurting everyone around me, on purpose. I, of course want to believe that isn’t the case. But what if it is? What if I am just simply not a nice person? Is it possible that these are my true colors and I can’t change them?
I spend every single day feeling like a failure.
I spend every conversation that I have to say “it’s not a good day” knowing there is judgement on the other side. Why can’t I just make it all stop? It feels so odd to not understand my feelings and my mind. How can this be real? Maybe it isn’t? Maybe it’s just in my head? But, if it’s in my head, does that make it not real? Who decides what’s real?
I’m trying to understand that what’s real for me does not make it less real if someone else can’t understand it. Often what goes on in my head is confusing and unclear. I’m working on accepting this rather than trying to change it. It’s because of my illness. And while I can learn new skills to cope better and improve my quality of life, I can’t change the fact that I live and struggle with bipolar disorder.
No amount of coping strategies will change that.
I think once I can come to terms with it, I’ll see growth and personal development. I think, as much as I understand that mental illness is real, and that I have one, I still unintentionally hope and pray that it will go away. It won’t. And, that has to be okay. I’m hoping that by working on acceptance, I’ll be able to put many demons to rest.
My body feels tired and sore all the time.
This is simply not how I imagined I’d feel at 30. And while I am not as well as I had hoped, it’s probably important to start understanding that my illness is not a fault, and that I can’t make it go away. No amount of routine, exercise, therapy or medication will make my bipolar disorder leave. They will just strengthen my ability to cope.
I feel like I’ve been fighting it for so long. Determined that I should be able to control it. I’ve been determined that they (the doctors) have to be wrong. There is not way I have bipolar disorder. It turns out I’m wrong. I do have it. I’m struggling. I’ve been struggling for a long time.
For the last two years I’ve been on and off of setraline, lamotrigine, quetiapienne, lamotrigine again, valporic acid, and latuda.
Constantly increasing the dose every 2-10 days, only to find that it’s not working, to wean/stop, and try something else. I’ve been stuck in this terrible and vicious cycle for so long that I forgot even what the end goal was. I forgot what we were trying to achieve. Misery has just become my new way of life.
Lately, the the last year, my condition has worsened significantly.
I’ve gone from never thinking of suicide and just struggling with the dark depression, to having an active plan to end my life. In one year my life has changed drastically. My ability to make and keep decisions and promises has been completely altered. My ability to focus, concentrate and enjoy new things is non-existent. Joys that I once loved, I no longer feel anything for.
Bipolar disorder has tried to take everything from me. Repeatedly.
I’m determined to get stronger. I need to be okay.