If you’re looking for my usual uplifting-happy-ending-to-a-struggle kind of post, don’t bother reading this one. In keeping with my blog philosophy, I need to be honest. I fucking hate bipolar disorder. Somewhere along the line I became derailed. The train crashed and the workers are taking their sweet time getting it back on the tracks.
Today I hit bottom. I’m done trying, what’s the point? It doesn’t stick. The episodes always come back, even with no apparent triggers. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of making an effort. I’m tired of trying to see a positive side to life. It’s elusive, and right now I don’t feel like playing this game of hide and seek any more.