I have come so far and I’m finally able to really own my progress. I’m proud of Carrie. I stay away from booze, and if I slipped it was for a very brief period. I’m a month and a half away from a YEAR again. I’m still alive. I came very close to taking myself out in 2017. I stay away from cigarettes and only vape (it’s fake news about anyone dying from nicotine vapor.)
I’ve done a LOT of healing with my therapist in the last 3 years; she is the most empathetic therapist I’ve ever had. She didn’t coddle but she wasn’t stern; she was just right. I tried to crack the code on my deep depression through several books but I needed the right medicine/treatment before I could implement anything. You cannot intellectualize your way out of bipolar depression; it doesn’t work like that. The brain is an organ, THE MOST IMPORTANT ORGAN, and it gets sick. Really sick. Or so many victims of this cruel disease wouldn’t kill themselves.
Rationality has returned. I never imagined myself this calm and rational because it’d been so long I forgot. I’ve gotten rid of toxic “friends.” I’ve stopped having casual sex because it HURTS me. I’ve stopped having friends with benefits because MY needs matter and I want real intimacy, even if it means I have to wait. I’m alone but I truly do love myself; it’s the disorder I hate.
I’ve come to accept that my mother will never know how to mother me. I have my dad. I have my grandmother. I have my aunt. I still have my best friend forever. I still have my loyal, empathetic friends and I love them. I realized I’m more normal than I thought. Everyone struggles with life. Everyone gets emotional sometimes.
I had my life ripped away from me 3 years ago when I never imagined I’d be without him. Rationally, I’m fine and it wasn’t all roses and peaches because he stopped consoling me. But I’m a survivor. I will be a much better girlfriend next time because I’ve learned so much. I’m self-aware as hell, even my therapist would say I was almost there for her. That relationship is really important to me. And it was ME, after my most painful hypomania that I realized I really was bipolar all along.
Thanksgiving 2017 I swear I had a white light moment (they call it a spiritual awakening). Whether it was something else doesn’t matter. Everything made sense all of a sudden; it felt like a bunch of files downloading in my head. I saw everything for what it was, everything I went through. I still broke my own heart along the way but I’m stronger, closer to who I really am.
I don’t want to self-sabotage. I’ve addressed my shadow side. I’ve been uplifted by people like Carl Jung. I AM funny and I don’t care anymore if my mom doesn’t think so. I overcame codependency. I lived because I’m supposed to be here. I’m supposed to help. It’s my obligation. Sorry this got so long but when I start writing it just comes all out. Thank you to whomever reads this. And thank you, Dad. I’m awesome.