A much needed farewell

You left me to die. Literally. 

You broke my heart and had the nerve to say I broke yours. 

You left because I was sick and had no control, 

but you didn’t care. 

You turned everyone against me and made me the only bad guy. 

Yeah, I did my dirt, but what about you? 

Huh? 

You weren’t perfect. You left me for dead, remember? 

I’ve been blaming myself for years, for something that wasn’t entirely my fault, 

it takes two to tell a lie. 

I cried over you. 

I cried for you. 

I hurt myself because of you. 

I hated myself for you. 

I wanted to die because of you, 

yet, I’m still sorry for something I didn’t do. 

You will never see me like you did before. 

I can’t come to terms with that. 

I thought I couldn’t cope without you, 

but here I am,

learning to cope without you.

You’re no longer something I need, just something I thought I wanted. 

And well, 

that isn’t good enough for me anymore. 

You’re dead to me. 

I don’t need you anymore. 

I know you wish I were dead, and although I don’t wish you were dead, you are, in fact, dead, 

to me. 

You were my everything, yet you threw me away like I was nothing. 

You didn’t look back, 

not once. 

You saw me at my worst and couldn’t handle it. 

I wondered for years why I ended up not being good enough for you, 

turns out, I was never good enough for you, 

nor will I ever be. 

This is me letting you go. 

I hurt enough for the both of us, 

but if I’m going to make it out alive, I need to be rid of you.

Im finally free.

Goodbye, for good.

 

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

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I have Bipolar Disorder

I have bipolar Disorder. Wow, coming out as having Bipolar II Disorder is hands down one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. My mom had a suspicion, for years, when I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder a few years ago. I remember her pointing out to me that I was bipolar, but I thought she was just joking because sometimes I could go from ecstatic to suicidal in under 5 minutes. The ecstatic portion is known as mania, but with bipolar II, it’s just known as hypomania, where I’ve never experienced a full manic episode, but was close to it. I also don’t have manic episodes that often, but when I do, I’m very impulsive, can’t form full thoughts sentences without getting sidetracked onto another topic totally not related. Most times I don’t even notice until someone tells me to back up and finish the first story first. I just assumed my highs were my medications working, and a part of it is my medication, but the impulsive actions and buying things that I could not afford, and putting myself and my family at risk, was the Bipolar Disorder. When I have my hypomanic episodes, it’s scary because I don’t feel like myself. I feel overly happy, but not the “regular” kind of happy. It feels like I’m on some type of drug that speeds up my nervous system and it isn’t fun.  

Having meltdowns one minute, and then the next I’m hysterically laughing is an imbalance that’s indescribable. It’s something you’ll only understand, if you experience it first-hand. It puts a turmoil on you and the people around you. They have to adjust to your mood swings and practically walk on eggshells so they can figure out what does and does not set you off. I was in denial that I had bipolar disorder and being put on the medication for it only made it even more real. I haven’t told anyone yet, so this is a pretty raw blog post that you all get to read for the first time. I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed, I didn’t want it to be real, but it is, and there is no hiding it. I don’t like to talk about it because it’s just a different side of myself that I can’t cope with, but have to learn to be patient with.  

Getting diagnosed has helped me be more aware of my impulsivity that has gotten me into scary situations before. It has helped me be more self-aware of my mood swings and control my reactions to certain situations. Of course, the medicine is here to help, but I am in control of my own reactions and happiness. This recovery journey is getting harder and harder, and most days I feel like I’m going to relapse, but it’s okay if I do. As long as I can get back up and continue on. This isn’t the end.  

 

It gets better

*TRIGGER WARNING* 

Below contains my suicide note, that I wrote 5 years ago. If you are not in a good place to read this, I advise you to not to do so, thank you!

“So by the time you get this I won’t be here anymore. I’m tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired, the emotional drainage I feel every waking moment I spend breathing. The kind of tired I feel that it feels like too much work to pick out clothes to wear to school, or take a shower, or take my medicine. I’m tired of standing in the mirror with a knife to my throat wondering if anyone would ever find my body if I went through with it, or even care for that matter. I’m so sick of being unhappy and not meaning a single thing to anyone on this earth. I will be much much much more happy when I’m sleeping with Jesus and it’s better this way. Now that im gone l hope you won’t be furious with me for pushing you away and never letting you in. I’m so sorry for the pain I caused you over the years. Dragging you down my tideous journey of this soul consuming depression. That was never fair to you and I’m so sorry.  my soul is rested in Jesus and I’m covered in the blood of Christ so I will be at peace, I’m not worried. I’m not scared anymore because I’ll be with him. This is truly what I want and I do not regret it at all. No one knew how truly I miserable I was although you may thought you did, you didn’t. What you thought was going on with me was far less worse than what was really going on. Everyday was a constant struggle to get out of bed, to take a shower everyday, go pee, small stuff like that. I don’t want to go out anymore, not even with friends. This is not a life I am trying to live everyday. I know I could have a worse life and there are people out there who do but I could also have a better one, better than the crappy one I am living in. There’s so much going on in my life that you have no idea about and how bad it really is because I was too embarrassed to tell you in fear you’d judge me.  It just hurts so much to the point where I’m feeling physically sick. I don’t want to leave the people that I do love but I possibly cannot keep going with this amount of pain going through me. I have been strong for so long, or so I thought, and there is only so much a person can take, and I have hit my limit, therefore I’ve exceeded my stay. It’s better this way, you’ll see. I didn’t intend for this note to be this long so I’m sorry I was never enough for you.

10.26.14”

This was the suicide note I wrote when I was 15 years old. I am sharing this very personal and vulnerable piece of me because it shows how far I have come. If you’re wondering why I still kept this 5 years later, it is to constantly remind me every day that I will strive to never get back to such a low place ever again. The whole point of my blog is to show how overcoming and dealing with mental illness is possible, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. As you see in my above note, I couldn’t see light for miles. I didn’t have someone to share with me, their testimony, of how it gets better, and I wish I had. I want that for someone reading this. If you are reading this, I am here to tell you that it, in fact, does get better, 100%. I know you can’t see that because I definitely couldn’t. I didn’t want to hear someone tell me “it gets better” who didn’t know what I was going through, but I know what you’re going through, and yet here I am with a purpose, just like you. You have a purpose. I am so thankful for all of you. If you’re feeling hopeless please feel free to reach out to me, and we will talk through this together. You’ve got this. You’re a rock star.

Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash

Having different mental illnesses

Having one mental illness can definitely lead to having another. Mental illnesses usually build on each other. For instance, if you have Depression, you are more likely to develop anxiety over any other mental illness (which is what happened to me), vice versa. Before I was started showing symptoms and was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, I was only nervous about one thing, and that was public speaking, which is common fear for most of the population. However, after being diagnosed with Depression, I started to get nervous and antsy about everything for no reason. Simple things like talking on the phone to someone other than my mom and dad, terrified me. Public speaking became a phobia, not just a fear, at this point. I became obsessed with pleasing people, even if it hurt me, just so I could avoid conflict, I’d say yes to just about anything, which can be dangerous. I developed a constant tremor in my head and hands that causes me to naturally shake. I avoided anything that put the attention on me. I worry about things, sometimes up to 6 months in advance, which causes constant worry and distress. Of course, along with anxiety comes with anxiety attacks. I had never experienced an anxiety attack before, or so I thought. Every time I get stressed, which is everyday it seems like, I can’t short of breath, and my chest has the sharpest pain possible. It has been so bad, that I have gone to the Emergency Room a few times and have had a doctor tell me that he thought I was having a slight heart attack because that’s what my EKG showed, but because I am so young, and otherwise healthy, that wasn’t logical. It turns out I was having anxiety attacks.

With my anxiety came anxiety of taking any form of pill, which includes my daily medications. I had developed a Somatoform Disorder—- Illness Anxiety Disorder, which is formally known as hypochondriasis. For about a year I would take my medicine very month, and that is only if my parents were shoving it down my throat because I was so scared that I would feel nauseas, like I had when I first started taking the medicine. Nausea is a symptom of new medications, and I didn’t like how I would get nauseas every time I’d take it, so I just stopped taking them all together. Of course, that was detrimental to my treatment because I started to develop other physical symptoms that piggy backed off my Somatoform Disorder.

It took me a long time to convince my parents that I wasn’t ‘just’ over-exaggerating, but that It is an actual illness. Knowing my body, and wanting to get better, I got treatment for it.  Having multiple illnesses doesn’t make you weird, or a freak. Knowing you have them helps you get the treatment that you need.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

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