A Personal Word About My Bipolar

As far as I can figure out, I have had at least depression since I can remember. I do know I thought I could suffocate myself with a pillow in third grade. I know all pictures of me when younger show tortured eyes and if I am smiling in them, I see no smile in my eyes. I have a picture of myself at four years old with black circles under my eyes and the look on my face sometimes makes me choke up. 

I didn't have very many friends. I felt different. I felt like an outsider. I felt like I belonged nowhere and didn't understand anyone. All I knew was feeling like I wasn't good enough and didn't deserve love. I have struggled with suicidal thoughts for as long as I can remember. This was me younger, and to an extent, me now.

I know that my heritage and my childhood played an important part in finally being diagnosed with bipolar 2 disorder in 2007. I am not really sure when depression became bipolar. I think everyday about the life that I had no choice but to accept. Sometimes I shrug my shoulders and sometimes I stew in the pot of regret and resentfulness.

When I decided to start this blog, I wasn't quite sure where to go with it. I was writing, but felt guilty because I thought I had to be this perfect example of managing bipolar (I am the poster girl for perfectionism). I don't exercise. I often don't eat healthily. I take my meds most days, but not at a specific time. I sleep well, but have one of my mood stabilizers to thank for that. When hypomanic, I purposely embrace it and live in it happily until the agitation becomes too much.

I tend to get irrational at times. I have panic attacks. There are days when I absolutely cannot face a shower, let alone working. Sometimes, the only words I can manage are, "I am tired", and I don't mean lack of sleep. I mean of breathing. I isolate and cut people off. When really down, I struggle with cutting. I can feel like a lost little girl and all I want is my mom and dad. I definitely feel driven to be perfect in everything. Although I have made great strides in improving my self esteem within the last 18 months, I still struggle sometimes. I rarely trust anyone and lose relationships because of it. I lose many relationships because of my bipolar alone. I can't blame people for leaving my life when I can't stand myself. I can be very unforgiving towards myself. Living with bipolar makes me so overwhelmingly tired of life sometimes.

So, yes, the struggle is real and the struggle is daily. I have been struggling more than usual for the last couple months. I plan to ask my psychiatrist if I have somehow transitioned to rapid cycling bipolar the next time I see her. I literally can feel my world bottom out and reset in the same day lately. Sometimes it is triggered and sometimes, it just happens.

With all of the above, I know I am grateful. I can work, so I don't have to worry about many of the things that those of us unable to work do. I have a strong support group that has my back. I have two wonderful children that are my rocks. They set me straight, but support me. They hold me, they hug me, and they let me cry when I need it. Of the few friends I have, they all are positive people that add dramatically to my life in a positive manner. I have a best friend that is amazing. Besides my children, it is the healthiest relationship I have ever had. At the urging of my children, I am learning to become more vulnerable and slowly open up to more people that I think may be trustworthy.

I have really strong feelings that I need to share all of this with you today. I may blog about managing bipolar to a satisfactory life, but I need you to know how closely I am standing shoulder to shoulder with you in trying to do that. Life with bipolar is hard. It is ugly. We are the only ones that truly understand. Everyone else can only try to imagine and any words we use do not do justice to describing depressive and manic/hypomanic episodes. Nobody else understands our daily struggle to breathe and survive. Nobody can truly understand us even though they may want to.

And yet, here we all are. Today's blog is a blog where I can tell you I feel proud to be a survivor. I feel proud to know I am strong, for the most part. Some of it has been my med set. Some of it has been my support group. Some of it has been my children and friends. But some of it has been me. Writing this blog helps me. I see myself in it. I see where I can make changes in my life and take my own advice.

Most of the topics I blog about are very personal to me. I do research, but a lot of it pours willingly from my heart. I know where I want this blog to go. I know what I want it to become. I'm not quite sure how to do it yet, but I will figure it out. I used to think if I could just touch and help one person, it would all be worth it. That doesn't cut it anymore. When I die, I want to feel like I have touched and helped every single person possible.

To balanced and productive days my friends,

Laura