So there's a huge part of me that I may hint at every now and then but I don't usually openly admit. But it literally effects every single action I make, and it is something that I daily fight. But I don't really tell people because I don't think they will understand. I don't like the negative associations, and I am desperately struggling to not feel more like an outsider than I already do in my life.
When I was 16 years old after 6 months of going so absolutely crazy I was diagnosed as being Bipolar. And I mean that literally one day I woke up and my thoughts weren't my own anymore, I couldn't control my actions and even I knew there was something wrong. But who wants to admit that they feel like they're going crazy? I dropped off the softball team, refused to go on my choir trip, completely cut myself off from all of my friends, and the worst part was that then in secret I started hurting myself. Rex is the person who found out and forced me to tell my family. This led doctors to constant disagreeing of the proper treatment for me, and started the medication trialing (which is still going on today) The first adverse medication reaction I had was liver failure at 16 years old. (Try explaining why I missed all my friend's graduations my junior year because I was in the hospital, I didn't tell anyone what was going on)
It's been 10 years and I'm still not there. Multiple different medications, a few hospitalization for bad reactions. About a year ago I had a reaction to a new medication and had to go to the Emergency Room, to ensure my airway didn't close. The meds I was on when I was younger I had to stop anytime I became pregnant and nursing. While pregnant with Sydnee I miscarried her twin which I blame mostly on fetal toxic meds I was taking before I knew I was pregnant. I'm not pregnant now, but I can't afford how much the meds cost without insurance.
Wow, I was not going to start this blog all about my med frustrations. But like most chronic conditions I have good moments and bad moments. And since I got married I haven't been as good. But my version of bad means that I become cut off, I again refuse to talk to people, even people who are very nicely trying to be my friend. I convince myself that I don't fit in, that I don't really have friends in church, that in general I close myself off from everyone. I kick my husband out, and beyond my children I don't really allow myself to be close to anyone.
I'm pretty good at faking it, I'm bright and happy and my goofy self. I even half lie to my real friends and try to make my life sound as happy and calm as I think all their lives are.
How I'm doing is that I'm completely unbalanced, my liver tests have lately been getting worse. I haven't had insurance and haven't had any meds for months. I have been working 60 hours a week doing a job I worked hard to get a degree for, but not doing what I had planned. I'm half convinced that I am so broken from Rex that I will never be able to truly move on. And the plans I had with Ryan have all been completely smashed and I don't know how to fix them, or some days if I want to. It's bad and I don't know most days what the end of the day will bring.
I read obsessively all my friends blogs, and I wish I had all those lives, I wish I could run. I wish I could stay home and play with my kids, I wish I was included in all the fun play dates. I wish I had a large family and cousins that all got together and liked each other. I wish I could feel normal.
My children are amazing and I can truly say that they save my life everyday. They are every single reason I am functioning. Every single reason I'm still standing.
This is something I HATE admitting, I hate saying it out loud. I'm fairly convinced it will make me feel like more of an outcast when I run into people around town. But at the moment I've gotten so bad I can't keep pretending. This is supposed to be my honest blog, so here's my truth