I stayed up to wait for my dad and admitted to him that I drank. And he accepted it because he loves me. And he’s accepting my illness. He’s accepting it more the I am and it’s scary. Because it’s true. I’ve been avoiding it. I’ve been trying to move away from it. But I can’t escape it.
I have bipolar 1 disorder. And while it doesn’t define me as a person, it impacts most parts of my life (if not all). I need to channel DBT and radically accept my illness because it won’t go away. (No matter how much I drink or how many fake happy instagrams I post)
I may never get an explanation or an excuse. But this is me. I’m 23 years old, I was recruited and swam for the University of Michigan and I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder. My swimming career was cut short for other reasons, which I now realize are attached to my mood disorder illness. I’ve been hospitalized more than once. It’s about to be 3 times in 16 months. I’ve lost best friends. I’ve strengthened relationships and I’ve made friendships stronger than ever. I’ve learned more than I can ever explain.
I’m here today and I’m surviving. I’ve been suicidal. But I could never leave my dad. He is my rock and I know that I’m his rock, likewise. We both struggle, in different ways, but we won’t give up. He is my best friend. We’re in this together. In the psych term my dad is my “reason for living”. And no matter what happens in the future, I can’t even think that far, I know he’ll be supporting me, in nearly every way imaginable. I have to wake up in a few hours to go to NYC.
I bought “Touched with Fire” the movie and it’s meh. I haven’t finished it so can’t give a good review. Anyway. I will still mourn Carrie Fisher. I’m in a weird mood. Mixed episode and waiting to be stable. So close but so far