I am Alethea, I will keep alot of it private to invite blogger friends, but no real names. Just my story.
So its been a very long ride, which I’m sure is not close to ever being done. I have been diagnosed with Bipolar 1 about 7 months ago. It was something that had been obvious to me but I didn’t really realize the full extent until I was diagnosed and realized, “HOLY SHIT that’s me…” Was it a relief? yes. See now when you talk about bipolar their are so many people who claim to have bipolar, but they do not know what its really like. They are used to normal human emotions; anger, sadness, happiness and want to claim bipolar. No that’s normal. It Is so much more than that. I’ve always dealt with anxiety since my teenage years. Used to pick at skin, fingernails, back of my head, my lips. Somewhat I was able to control it, it didn’t interfere much. Then I started getting older and from what my psychiatrist has told me either it subsides as you get older, or it gets worse (when it comes to anxiety, later on found out bipolar gets worse as you get older no matter what.) My anxiety got worse, but I was so happy with life at the moment it was easier to control. Stress is a big trigger of mine which I’m sure everyone else’s too. I had less stress then. JD & myself had finally had our first child JR, our own house, he had a good job. Was just great.
Bipolar came in full effect about 3 years later. Right after we had our second baby girl KD. Bipolar does run in my family. My grandmother had it but back then they didn’t have the access to medication then they did then. She passed away at 27. My mom has it but doesn’t believe in mental disorders unless they are killers or rapists. She just cant comprehend things for other reasons. As I got older I got it. I thought it was my anxiety doing some crazy shit. But then I had a full on incident probably a couple weeks apart for a few months and ended up in the hospital. It sounds crazy trust me considering I have kids, the guilt I feel for it will not go away. That’s when I hit my down time. Guilt consumes me after I’ve been manic, especially because my children. I do every possible to not ever let them see me like that. I don’t want to fuck up their lives and them need therapy because of me. I do everything for them and they know it. My children adore me. They may still be just 6 @ 3 but everything I do is for them. I care about their happiness only and mine with them.
Writing is very therapeutic for me. It will be my outlet during an “incident” or just to write.
I could write for hours because I haven’t wrote in probably over a year and a half. I had an xanga but that got all weird.
I just need to help myself, and this is it.