I’m Not Well
That is the most honest statement I’ve written. I am not well. It is taking everything in me at the moment to type these words. What happened? Nothing specifically but enough to leave me in my bed going on a week now. This post won’t be full of frill or begging for sympathy. I am just curious if it is possible to write myself well.
What does that mean? I’m not sure but I do know I love my blog and this community. I apologize for not responding to any of the comments and I will get to that soon. Currently, my hands shake as I type and I want to close my laptop. I may. I may not. I don’t know what to say. I am learning that just because I do not want to be bipolar, does not make me not bipolar.
I’ve had a manic episode for approximately nine months now. That’s a long time to be up and my plan is to not be down that long. But here’s the catch. I don’t have a plan. Oh but wait! I am working on one. I see a new counselor on Monday. I am here, writing and I plan to touch base at least once a day. What I write is all dependant on how I feel. I will try to be social but at this point, no promises. I consume myself with others as a distraction from working on myself. I’ve said this for years but the reality of it has slapped me in the face. It hurts. I am hurting.
What does writing myself well mean? I don’t know but I am at the point I will try anything. Over the past two years, I have slowly come to understand that I am worthy of life. Even typing that confuses me because I have learned it but find it hard to believe 100%. Who determines…I have a million questions that will never be answered. I’m not hoing to waste anymore time on those. I want to be better.
I’ll admit there have been times when being sick was easier than putting in the work it takes to get well but that is not the case this go ’round. This time is different. What’s even harder for me to understand is the number of people who believe that being this way is a choice. Why on Earth would anyone choose to live this way? How is this my fault? How do I stop it? I’d rather not exist but instead, I have this and a life that I have been given. For what I have yet to discover. But I, like you, have a purpose.