Making sense of feelings & accepting my diagnosis.

I think the biggest obstacle for me going forward is going to be figuring out what the fuck I’m feeling. I know I’m overanalyzing and perhaps others can chime in on their experiences with this. I literally don’t know what I’m feeling. Is what I’m feeling normal? Is it the start of something more sinister? Will I make it out of bed tomorrow or will tonight be one of those nights…and is that okay?

I would classify yesterday as a good day. I was calm, serene, level headed.

This morning, I could barely get out of bed.

Does that mean I’m falling back into the clutches of depression? Or does it mean that it’s simply Monday and I’m like everyone else struggling to get going?

Perhaps I’m trying hard to cling to the notion that I’m like everyone else. All I’ve ever wanted is to be accepted, but I’ve always been an outlier. And this diagnosis makes me even more so. (It’s the bipolar diagnosis I’m having trouble with, not borderline for whatever reason).

I’m not surprised by my diagnosis. I’ve known for a long time. I just didn’t want to get help. The hypomania is… seductive. I feel like I’m on top of the world. I’m charming, beautiful, creative. Why would I want that to end?

It’s the depression that sent me reeling into the doctors office. How I can be me one second and the next second I’m thinking about killing myself? Or the fact that as of late, I’ve been more and more depressed and I can barely function at work. I remember coming home early one day last month, around noon, and just going to bed until the next morning. I literally could not function.

Is this my reality from now on? Will I basically be shifting from high to low to normal and back again? Am I ready for it? Are the people in my life ready to accept me like this?

My fiancé knows but doesn’t get it, I guess. He’s seen me at my lowest and at my highest. He wants me to look at the diagnosis as a validation of my feelings instead of a life sentence. I know I’ll get there, especially as therapy progresses and the meds do their job. But I’m not there yet.

I’m not ready to accept it just yet.

For the meantime, my therapist gave me this great book. It’s hit a little close to home but I recommend it to anyone that’s been newly diagnosed.

facing biopolar

Here’s to hoping I get some restful sleep tonight.



With the hypomania setting in yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I’d fall asleep last night. I was up late, but I managed to get decent sleep. I woke up this morning feeling...clear. It’s the first time I’ve felt this way in a long time. The daze has temporarily lifted and I feel like a normal person. A person with normal emotions, thoughts… a person that isn’t thinking about killing or starving herself.

I woke up this morning, made some tea and read a book.

I was nice to my significant other.

I cleaned the apartment…in a non-frenzied way.

It was amazing. It’s the little things, right?

I want this to last. I want this to last without medication. I want to feel like myself. Sadly, with this illness, that is too much to ask for. I just hope to feel this way for a bit longer. I want savor it, take it in.

The beginning.

I honestly don’t know how to feel at this moment.

Today, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II and borderline personality disorder.

I hate the fact that my symptoms and feelings can be put into a box and categorized by some PhD. I hate the fact that I’m predictable, just like I’ve always thought I was. Predictable, boring, crazy, unlovable. It was all confirmed today.

I know I should be relieved, but I’m overwhelmed. I want to heal so badly from the mental hold that consumes me all the fucking time, yet…I can’t recover from these illnesses. They are chronic and life long. If left untreated, I’m only going to get crazier. I’m going to sink further. I’m going to lose everyone around me. I still don’t know why  he stays. Maybe there is some part of me that’s lovable and kind. Sometimes I believe that to be true. Other times I wish I had the guts to just end it all. To free myself from this world, instead of just cutting myself and hoping someone would notice.

After I left the therapist today, I could feel the hypomania coming on. Perhaps it was instigated by the fake sense of caring and concern he provided. Older men have that effect on me. I want them to want me.

I don’t know where the afternoon went, my thoughts are racing far too fast for me to write them all down here. I’ve spent close to $400 today. The therapist isn’t cheap, obviously. And then then I spent another $90 on a facial, $60 at Whole foods and the rest to buy this fucking domain name. Why the hell did I feel the urge to BUY a domain?

I don’t know. I’ve felt the urge to do a lot and I’ve accomplished quite a bit. I wish I was hypomanic all the time. I would be such a pleasant, loving, energetic person.

A part of me wishes I could experience the real thing...mania. I want to know what the next level from here is. I know mania leads to a lot of uncontrollable impulsivity, but I would like to experience it just once. I want to feel so high that I may burst. I want to see where that roller coaster takes me. Maybe I shouldn’t wish for things like that. A part of me wants to be hospitalized and see how that feels. I want other people to be concerned about me. I want them to think about me. To worry about me. I want them to regret all the times they cancelled plans or forgot to text me back.

God, I am so fucked up.