The struggle is real

Hello. I am Sarah and I have Bipolar Disorder.

Last night was a bad night. This morning I awoke dreading my shift, but I put on my big girl pants and sucked it up. I got home a bit ago and called my mom. She’s my support system.

She encouraged me to call my doctor and get a prescription for the medication I had sampled when I was feeling similar just three weeks ago. It’s ready to pick up at the pharmacy.

I have a confession. I could blame the stigma of having a mental illness, but I feel that’s a cop-out. I have hid my illness more and more as I have been a working functioning adult. And I have felt in the past that I was better for it. That I could simply treat my illness with medication and that being compliant was almost a badge of honor because I didn’t need things like therapy, support groups, and meditation or faith in anything to stabilize my condition. Just a once a night medication to calm the beast.

I am finding this is not the case. I can’t take away my illness. No one can. It’s incurable as far as science is concerned at this point. But sticking it in a box and trying to ignore it is not a solution.

The struggle is real. I am in constant war with myself. Even when I seem healthiest, I am struggling everyday. I analyze my thoughts, my feelings, my reactions, my interactions. And by interactions, I mean each and every one – whether it’s with a friend, family member, cashier, stranger on the street, the person on the other end of the phone, et al.

I don’t have a strong sense of self so to be constantly balancing what is considered normal is like trying to describe colors without the sense of sight.

I rarely read anything about Bipolar Disorder. I am the poster child of being a compliant patient clinging on to a thread of denial. If I don’t acknowledge it, is it really there?

Unfortunately yes, it is there and I have to begin the process of exploring it. I have to start the steps to a full solution, not the half-baked one I have concocted.

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