From the Psych Unit to Becoming a Therapist
I had to accept the fact that my body needed some help to make it livable.
Topic: bipolar
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.
I’ve gone through much of my life in a rush to get through...
The thing about getting clean is that once you get out of rehab, no one’s getting paid to take care of you anymore. That is when the real work starts.
I’ve been solving riddles for years, it’s a big part of surviving bipolar disorder.
The depression I suffered my whole life has since become a symptom of a very manageable problem, not an innate part of me.
What does life look like long-term living with bipolar disorder? How treatable are the symptoms and will life ever get easier?
Tonight, I do the best I can to quiet the thoughts.
Years after that first day when I was eight—on a day just as bright and clear—the world once again plunged into a meaningless gray. Only this time, it didn’t lift.
I wanted to hear the candid account of someone in the middle, maybe just past the hardest days of this illness, but not quite to the happy ending where you’ve reached the place you never thought you would.
I let it define me instead of defining my mental state. Everything I did wasn’t because I was doing it; bipolar II was the reason.
I don’t thank my bipolar. For anything. Not a single thing.
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