I’d like to start off this post with a simple trigger warning. I will be talking about my mental health and even though this blog is meant for pretty surface level things, this post is anything but.
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6 years ago, in 2015, I remember lying on my bed after kissing my mother on the cheek in the chair she sat in downstairs. I had taken approximately 10 anti-depression/anti-mania/help my bipolar pills. I also took them with some sleeping pills. It was in the middle of the day but I was tired. Tired of being stuck. Tired of the fighting in my brain. Tired of the pain.
I have been diagnosed with bipolar since I was 14 years old. Depression since I was 7. I was no stranger to the demons in my head. They’ve been there for years, telling me I wasn’t worthy of being loved. I wasn’t worthy of being alive. I was always trying to sit in the rain or be immersed in the bathtub, fully clothed, during that time. Maybe it was me trying to drown those thoughts, to stop them all together.
On that eventful day, after closing my eyes with my goodbye note next to me, I finally was getting what I wanted: peace.
If you’ve read my first book, you know what came next. If you haven’t, I’ll explain it quickly: My mother found me before I could drift off to sleep and everything was in slow motion after that: the phone call to 911, my mom screaming that I couldn’t leave her, and then when the paramedics showed up, putting up my hand and making them wait as I gathered up my purse.
I won’t get into how my organs were almost damaged and then I went through shock therapy (READ MY BOOK!) but I went through hell. I won’t sugar coat that.
Fast forward to 2021. I still can’t believe it’s been 6 years because even with my memory stolen from me, I remember that journey like it was last year. I don’t want to give a spiel of “IT GETS BETTER! GIVE IT ONE DAY AT A TIME! YOU CAN FIND HAPPINESS!” because I don’t think that’s what this post is about. I don’t want to give anyone false hope that you can “grow out of” bipolar (which one doctor told me to do recently...). I still have times where I want to end things like I did in 2015. I’ve even tried once, last year.
But those demons are mostly gone. I have negative thoughts sometimes, yes, but I can no longer hear the voice in my head saying “killing yourself will bring you so much happiness. Finally, you can be happy.”
I don’t want to get too much into my thoughts now, because even though I’m pretty open, my current feelings are personal to me (I don’t even tell my therapist, honestly...). I do want to take this day to reflect. I don’t like to question “what if” anymore because I can’t change what I’ve been through. I have traumatic flashbacks and IVs and needles give me panic attacks now but there’s no going back. I want to accept myself and my journey. I want improve myself. I want help.
What are you suppose to get out of this post? At the very least, I would like it if you guys reflected a bit on your mental health, too. You don’t have to meditate or do anything big, but I want to share this healing with you guys. It matters what you’ve been through and it certainly matters what you’re going to go through. If you haven’t reached for help, but need it, I will link some sources below. I want to share this day with someone, not only because YOU matter, but I finally realized: I matter, too.
Crisis Text Line: Text "HOME" to 741741
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