So… it is March already. It’s been around 6 months since I was diagnosed. Hard to believe that it went so long before anyone really noticed anything. The ups and downs were always seen as the effects of the pill, hormones or just my depression. I remember being terrified in my early teens. It seemed like every time I would get really happy my whole world would come crashing down around my feet again. It got to the point where I was so scared of being really, truly happy because I knew how bad things would be once that ended. I guess now I know that means I was having the ups and downs associated with bipolar. Trying to explain what I was feeling to anyone just made things worse. Having depression is seen as understandable but bipolar (even if it is type 2) is seen as being a crazy person. I still don’t even think my own mother can accept it.
It’s amazing the hours, the tears, the sleepless nights and attempted internet searches to understand it. To try and accept it, and accept myself. Maybe one day I will, but for now it’s just a dream.
