I have therapy today. I stopped seeing her for about four months because I was getting better. The thing is I am always getting better because I am always getting worse, if that makes sense. I think I may have some sort of bipolar disorder. It runs in my mom’s side of the family, I wouldn’t be surprised.
It’s the same reason why I am not surprised with my depression and my issues with eating. It seems the woman in this family are destined to live starved, melancholic lives. My mother had anorexia when she was eighteen, but I managed to be smaller than her at my lowest. A feat I can’t be proud of.
I hope the therapy session goes well. I’ll tell her about my constant mood shifts. I don’t experience manic episodes, if anything I may have bipolar type II.