rtesdNew Contributor
I don’t really know where to start, but I know I have to
I have Type I bipolar disorder. I’ve been diagnosed and medicated for over twenty years, and I thought I had a veritable armoury of coping tools. But over the past couple of months I’ve realised that the only tool I’ve really been using is a shovel to dig holes into which I can throw everything that hurts, and to bury them deep enough that I don’t have to look at them anymore. Lately, all those things that hurt seem to have developed limbs of their own, and they’re digging their way out. And I don’t know what to do with them, but they seem intent on staying.
I don’t have any friends who have any permanent mental health problems. I don’t want to diminish their own personal struggles, but it’s difficult to explain to healthy people that most days my primary goal is getting through that day without falling apart, or that 90% of my energy is devoted to suppressing or masking the symptoms of my bipolar. I’m exhausted. And I’m frustrated that this illness monopolises my time, my energy, my life. And I’m so disappointed, so brutally disappointed with myself. I don’t want to spend the next 20 years repeating the 20 years that preceded them.
So I guess I’m here because I need hope. Hope that I can start to live, because I don’t think that’s something I’ve actually been doing. And I think that starts with support.
Anyway, that’s the long and short of it.