When Hope is Out at Sea
Topic: bipolar disorder
I get so excited to show and tell, to say, “Look, the meds that breathed life back into me.”
My recovery did not begin until I truly accepted I would have to manage and cope with Bipolar Disorder for the rest of my life.
I come from a long line of family members who were taught to hide their mental illness, hide their differences, and lock the doors on their trauma.
Feeling nothing at all detaches me from the world. I don't feel pain, but I also don't feel joy.
I think that having bipolar disorder has helped me be a better parent.
When I got diagnosed I found it near impossible to look up to a “healthy” bipolar person because the media caters to clickbait moments...
Then I cycle. I cycle into depression. A better term would be crash. I crash face first.
They don’t tell you about the periods of “wellness” in which you question your own reality and existence.
Stigma hasn’t killed me yet, and that has to count for something.
I had to accept the fact that my body needed some help to make it livable.
There is a myriad of battles fought in the minds of those who wake up every day wearing dark brown skin in a world where the less melanin you have, the more freedom you may enjoy.
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