I was born on February 21st, 1980. With the gift of life I was also given a gift from God. I was born with a disorder called Bipolar II. I was fortunate to make it into my mid twenties before I was really effected by the disorder. Don't get me wrong, I did struggle in the early years and throughout my teens, but I was not crippled by it. I just always felt a little different, a little odd, a little confused as to who I was. I remember the day I was officially diagnosed. I had recently attempted suicide and was released from the hospital with the promise to seek psychological help. I was required to take a mental health evaluation upon my first visit and it took no time at all for the psychiatrist to determine that I indeed did have bipolar. It would be almost ten years later that I would be diagnosed with Bipolar II. The news terrified me. I was 22 and a single mom of a 5 year-old son. I didn't have time to deal with this...
Everyday I face an uncomfortable frustration. I feel irritated to the max for no reason. I lack the motivation to even get out of bed. I struggle to find the joy in anything. I just want to crawl into a dark cave and hibernate. I know what the problem is. I know what I was diagnosed with so many years ago. I know how they say to overcome it. I know what I have to do. As hard as I try or as many times as I pull up my straps, I a m constantly weighed down. I turn upwards in prayer. I turn downwards in silence. I wait. And wait. And wait. But nothing happens. Nothing changes. Nothing works. I stop fighting. I stop trying. I stop thinking. I just stop. I was born this way and I will die this way. Strong enough to fight tomorrow. Too weak to move today. Already forgot about yesterday.