I’ve been dealing with BP officially since May 2007. Six long years.
I remember when I was first diagnosed. I cried. I was reminded of the taunts that some of my schoolmates had thrown at me.
But afterwards I was happy. Leading up to this, I had had many tests done trying to figure out what I was so tired. Why I felt so sick.
Right now I’m dealing with a current bout. But this seems to be different somehow. I’m used to mania. It’s become an old friend. But this sadness…the hopelessness. I haven’t felt that in years.
I’m a bit confused. I’m up and then I’m down. It’s annoying. I’m not in control…I have control issues.
The nurses at the psych ward told me that writing is therapeutic. I’ve found this to be true. I’ve always found that talking things out have helped me. Perhaps this blog may help someone one day? I would hope so.