I’ve half-assed treated my illness for the last 5 years, and I almost got away with it. I take my medications, but I don’t do talk therapy, I don’t belong to any support groups, and I don’t have a support team when shit gets rough.
Last night I wanted to kill myself. The most vivid thought was taking the serrated kitchen knife into the bathtub and slashing at myself until I succeeded.
Instead, I stayed in my dark room and sang myself song after song until I got sleepy. I tried calling my mom last night, but no luck and she hasn’t attempted to reach me this morning. I dunno if my bipolar emotions are disappointed or if it’s the real me that feels let down.
I have wondered why my visions of my future have disappeared. For a few years I have tried to picture what I want or where I want to be, and I see and feel nothing. When I was little I could always see it. It didn’t come to be what I thought and felt it would, but I could at least feel and see myself in a future.
Maybe this is it for me.