…”No, it’s not going to stop
Til you wise up
No it’s not going to stop
So just give up.”
Wise Up, Aimee Mann
I have been very public with my fight against Bipolar disorder. As my readers know, the last five years have been a leviathan struggle for me. I’m not interested in hearing what you think of me, or what I’m capable of, or how fortunate I am with all of the blessings life has bestowed upon me. I just want to know what I’m supposed to do. I just want to know how to be normal. I just want to know how to live. Sober/not sober, love/no love, exercise and diet/lethargy and eating like a pig, work/no work… it doesn’t matter.
I’m currently not drinking. I’m eating well, going to the gym, taking my medication, seeing my shrink and my drug councilor, trying to get out of the house everyday, being social and spiritual… but inside I’m like a dying star, collapsing in on itself. Soon, my insides will just be a black hole. It may already be so. I’m corroding from the inside, out.
People talk about mental health awareness, and I’m glad the stigma has diminished over the past few years. I’m glad that people are more aware of the struggles we (mentally ill) suffer through. But honestly, it doesn’t help me to want to live. I’ve stated this in a previous blog post, but it bears repeating: when people want to kill themselves, it’s not necessarily because they want to die, but because they can’t bear to LIVE (unless on a holy mission). It doesn’t matter how much love or support I have around me. My brain doesn’t work the way yours does. It’s broken. I’m broken. We’ve tried everything to fix me, but I’m like a porcelain doll that’s been dropped over & over, glued back together, but there are chips in me and parts are missing.
I want so much to be good for the people that have loved me endlessly. I want to be a shining example of someone who comes out on the other end. I want to be strong. I want to healthy. But it’s so very hard when I can’t move or eat, let alone get out of bed- for days, weeks, months… Someone very close to me is dying right now. She’s so strong, so inspiring- she wants to live and she is. I often wish I could trade places with her. Then no one would blame me, no one would be angry or think me selfish. Besides, she deserves to live and honestly, I don’t. I often wished nobody loved me so I wouldn’t feel the guilt of hurting them. I try to find the love in me. I have an abundance of it for others, but none for me. The amount of guilt and self-hatred I have for myself is as dense as an object occluding my throat and it takes my breath away.
My advice for you is to stay away from me. I’m toxic and I don’t want to infect anyone else. The ripple effects of my disease have already caused many people years of worry and heartache. You can’t understand unless you have it. And if you have it, I’m sorry for you.
I’m sorry if this is dark. I’m sorry if I’m worrying you. I’m sorry for everything.
I just want to be good.
Ps. Don’t you worry, my online persona will be kept up like I’m living life to the fullest and happy as can be.