This is a blog about my journey with bipolar disorder. I was diagnosed spring of 2011 and was admitted into a mental health hospital a month before my wedding. I struggled greatly for the next year and a half going on and off meds, experimenting with different forms of therapy and was readmitted to the hospital at the end of 2012. Since then I have been learning how to re-live my life. Seeing a wise, supportive, kind therapist once a week and emerging myself into Dialectical Behavioural Therapy are 2 of many ways that are helping me recover. I have found deep comfort and much strength in mindfulness practices, taught to me from DBT.

This blog is my way of allowing you to see into the life of someone who suffers from bipolar, depression and extreme anxiety. I want to own my story, and help defeat the stigma. I hope you find some comfort in knowing you are not alone, or learn more about mental illness through the writings of my blog.

Thursday, 17 January 2013


Why is it so much easier to write when there's at least a bit of hope? Even if things are going terrible, if you have just a glimmer of hope, the load is lightened.
I seem to have lost that hopeful glimmer these past 2ish weeks.
Although I've been close, I haven't had any full blown episodes. Episodes are intensified moments of panic, despair, guilt thrusted into a mere few hours. What I am bearing right now is a constant dark, heavy, burden that is with me each moment of the day. Before, my days were usually good and my evenings were full blown madness. But now my entire day is dulled, depressed, anxiety filled. I enjoy nothing. I am unmotivated. I'm behind on cleaning. I don't have energy or desire to cook food.
I'm not sure which state is worse; episodes at night but having good days, or being constantly down with no good moments at all.
I feel hopeless, like I will be this way for the rest of my life, or at least a whole year or months on end.
I feel like a burden. Like a big negative ball of dead weight with nothing to give.
I'm a bad friend.
A bad daughter.
A bad auntie.
A bad sister.
A bad wife.

I try to tell myself that 'I'm sick' and I need to think of myself as sick and not be so hard on myself, but its no use.

I dont't know what to do or where to go from here. Ryan is tiring out, growing impatient (with good reason), and I just feel lost.

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