Just words on paper today
The last few months have been a mix of empowering moments and devastating feelings. I have realized it is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply, when the feelings are positive I feel as though I am on top of the world but when they are low it’s a deep hole to dig out of. I suppose I should start at the beginning…
A few months ago I was diagnosed with Bipolar, type I. I have known for some time but like many others I didn’t want to accept it, my doctor had diagnosed me with Depression several years ago because I only told her about the lows. Depression was an easier pill to swallow than Bipolar, the meds are less severe, the stigma less. I wasn’t ready to admit the truth to myself. I finally came clean to my doctor about the highs and lows, she was extremely supportive and non judgmental which was a relief. I wish I could say the same about my family, my brother was supportive, my father was trying his best and my mother’s exact words were “in my day we just dealt with stress, you have a good life not sure what you’re so sad about.” I suppose I should have let them see the highs and lows, maybe they would have taken me more seriously but I have always hidden it. I was referred to a psychiatrist and had to see a new therapist in that practice per their rules. I started on medication, but felt as though my therapist and I weren’t connecting. I asked to switched therapists and their rule is you must discuss it with your current therapist prior to switching. I am a baby and couldn’t bring myself to do it so instead I cancelled all appointments at the practice, went off my medication and have become the typical BiPolar patient who swears they are fine.
Deep down, I know I am not fine. I know I’m not fine because I often have suicidal thoughts, thankfully I know I would l never do it but I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t cross my mind frequently. I was talking with my friend M the other day about another friend I have who suffers from depression but seeks attention because of it. I’m not saying there is a right or wrong way to be depressed but simply that those who are suicidal typically don’t put snapchat stories talking about all the reasons why they hate themselves and how they are going to give up. In school, in personal experience those who are depressed either retreat, or give subtle hints. You often don’t know they are suicidal until it is too late or until they tell someone privately. I’m not passing judgment it just got me thinking about myself. If I had to answer the question “are you suicidal” I sadly would have to check off “yes.”
I was driving home last night and started crying, just bawling my eyes out. I have realized that a lot of my unhappiness comes from the pressure I put on myself to be better. I feel as though I am not where I should be in life financially, career wise, in love. I am turning 30 next month and I feel as though I have nothing to show for it but a life of mistakes. I can completely understand why the thought of ending your life can at times seem like an option. I sat there driving and thinking “I’d rather be remembered for my potential than for the disappointment I became.” I feel as though each day that goes by, each year that I don’t accomplish more my family just gets a bit more disappointed in me. If I died young then no more disappointment. My name wouldn’t bring thoughts of “oh god what did she do now, it’s just steph being steph” etc
I would like to try and end such a heavy entry with a small positive, I have had moments of empowerment over the last few weeks and have cut several people out of my life, friends and lovers a like. My 30th birthday present to myself is to no longer sit at a table with people who don’t serve me respect and love. I have spent the first half of my life trying not to offend people, and trying to make sure people are happy and have not given myself the same respect. I am trying to show myself the love and respect I so desperately crave from others.
**I hope that someday when I am gone, someone, somewhere, picks my soul up off of these pages and thinks, “I would have loved her.”**
I want to clarify for anyone reading this I will not hurt myself. I think about it far more than is healthy but I couldn’t do that to my little brother. He lost a friend to suicide several years ago and I just couldn’t let him live with that burden from me as well. I am simply writing and acknowledging that I understand how people think it’s a better option than life.