Departed

Departed... that is the best way to describe my current state. It's as if my soul and energy have deserted me and just left a hollow shell with a brain. The joys of suffering from bipolar disorder. And to think that there are people out there on this planet who refuse to accept mental illness as medical. Is you brain not apart of your body? Do you not medically treat your body? Or is it that the brain is exempt from seeking medical attention if necessary? This is not something made up, nor is it something fun to have. I don't enjoy these gusts of energy and car crash depressions. I don't enjoy the fact that I have to be particularly careful with who I divulge my diagnoses to in order to avoid being judged and ridiculed because of the whole stigma behind mental illness.

If a genie were to grant you three wishes today, what would you wish for? What would I wish for? A couple million dollars (between $1 and $10 million nothing to crazy!!), my own social service agency that focused on women and children and gave extra attention to mental illness, and to rid the world of all stigmas surrounding mental illnesses. In reference to the latter, all I want is acceptance. If the world accepted me for me then I would feel a little more free to express my feelings and issues. I would not have to put people through an interview process before letting them know that I suffer from bipolar disorder. Diabetics, heart disease and cancer patients can be liberal with disclosing their diagnoses to the public and when they do they receive a sympathetic "Oh". When someone discloses a mental health diagnoses, the "Oh" sounds like "I didn't know you were crazy and from now on I am going to keep my distance because I don't know if you are going to snap on me" should immediately follow. Even when you have known the person for a long time and they have never questioned your mental state.

I want a sympathetic "Oh" occasionally... if not most of the time because dealing with this disease is a bitch! In order to survive this life and not take myself out of my own misery, I am dependent on medication, psychiatrists, and therapy for the rest of my life. If I stop, the results can and will be fatal. What kind of way is that to live? I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy... (Well maybe make them walk a day or two is my manic or depressive shoes to teach them some compassion will suffice). The biggest problem that I have is that I feel like I am being portrayed as lazy. When I am in a depressive state, I feel like I am obese with depression. Like it anchors me down. I try to free myself of its restraints but to no avail....

Waiting on the return flight to stability!