I am finally learning to live life on life’s terms, and to appreciate the fact that I am still alive. Recovery is not always easy but it is beautiful. The poem below reads more like spoken word poetry, I am not into the frilly stuff. Every word is true and every word is real. I hope I can connect to a few readers. We are not alone in this journey.
Through a 12-step program, I tried coping with my new, clean life. But I was still consumed with self-loathing, insecurities, imaginary judgments, and panic attacks. At the same time, I had lofty thoughts and philosophies, grand plans and delusions. I was right back in the kind of spiraling bipolar episode I’d been bandaging for more than seven years.
My life has improved since I got on a program to help me with this unbelievably difficult disease. Although, I have had troubles with substances and ended up in a rehabilitation facility for a pain program after I ended up addicted to pain killers and Cocaine last year. This year has been extremely difficult and still need help.
This disease (both of them) has ruined my opportunities in life, but I’m still here and am not quitting the fight to just survive.
I wasn’t diagnosed with having panic attacks/anxiety until the age of 13. Since then, I’ve been on and off different medications and therapy for this. But in my opinion, nothing helps more than the medication & counseling. One without the other doesn’t cut it for me unfortunately that’s how bad it is for me. I can’t even experience ‘good stress’ as in going away on a vacation, going to a friend’s wedding, waiting to see one of my favorite bands.
On the bright side, although I continue to cycle through depression, mania and mixed states, for the last year I have been consistenly happier than I can ever remember and am very optimistic about what the future holds. I have rediscovered my spiritual beliefs, made significant positive improvement in family relations which have been horribly, but not irrevocably damaged.
This has been a classic American Tragedy and I hope my experiences educate, and, hopefully, help someone else who is struggling. Even If no one reads this, it has been very helpful to publicly acknowledge my condition and continue to move forward with my life.
I realized the hypocrisy of my fears and my decision for the past 5 years not to share this one diagnosis. If I was truly going to walk the walk and talk the talk, if I was going to stand on equal ground with the 80,000+ people who have ‘liked’ BC2M on Facebook, if I was going to encourage my own children to be fearless and open about their own diagnoses . . . if I wanted to let go of the shame and the secrecy, then I HAD to stop ‘editing’ my story.
My husband and I raised a seemingly happy, healthy, and talented son, who flourished throughout his childhood until his freshman year of college. Beneath his tall, handsome, athletic, easy-going exterior was constant emotional turmoil. To everyone else, he was called the “golden boy” and it seemed like he had it all, but inside he was struggling with crippling swings of anxiety and depression.