I am well practiced in loosing myself to my bipolar mind. I tend to get lost in my emotions and then I struggle to regroup and get back to my relative normal. I swing so very high and crash terribly low but when I spiral to the deep depths of my depression my suicidal thoughts are constant and I loathe every inch of myself.
I did something I shouldn’t have, and I know it was the wrong thing to do as I was instantly transported back in time to a younger, lost and shattered version of myself.
The week before last I thought accessing a letter from my father from years ago would assist with my story on my blog @veronica180.com. I thought I was in a relatively stable position to access the letter and share but suffice to say I made the wrong decision and now I am paying for it in heartbreak, tears, dark thoughts and total loos in my own strength and power.
I spent most of my weekend curled up in the foetal position in a snotty mess unable to control my emotions. I struggle to feel human and to be mum. I had promised myself when I was 13 that when I have my own children they would have a happy home life. Want for nothing; see unconditional love and wonderful family experiences. All I can give them is this broken human who is perpetually at war with my broken mind. I did the one thing I never wanted to do to them and now the circle of confusion, heartbreak and sadness is a given in their lives.
I would class myself as the ultimate stuff up. I was not good at school; I rebelled ferociously when my parents decided to bring a third person into their bedroom. When my father finally did leave all the facts of his awful marriage to my mother came to head. He blamed everyone else about what happened and he still will not take any responsibility for any part in the deterioration of my mental state. I really can’t believe how he can live guilt free with regards to my siblings and me; I am the one who lives through these feelings often on a daily basis. But on many occasions when we get time for a heart to heart I am reminded that my siblings still feel the hurt they can just tuck it away and pretend they don’t have the feelings.
Being a stuff up can be pinned on some traumas in my life. Unplanned pregnancy when I was 15 which was terminated. There was an armed robbery with me being on the receiving end of a shotgun. Being molested by an atrocious man that had a routine of spots near 7 different schools and he only got 3 years. In general you would call it PTSD and I can’t seem to forget.
I continue to struggle to fit in; I struggle to behave like a regular person. I am trying to find work and that can be almost impossible because I fluctuate between highs and lows on a daily basis. Some days I can’t even get out of bed. Most businesses ask that you disclose any medical conditions prior to being hired. But If I disclose my bipolar disorder I am most likely not going to be given a chance to even appear for an interview. It is a double headed sword and I have already been impaled by it before being given a chance to show the better parts of me.
So basically I am so far lost that the world would be better off without me and someone else to take my place.