365 days..

Today marks one whole entire year since i went into the mental hospital and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (unspecified). Today one year ago changed my whole life. Today one year ago, I also stopped drinking alcohol, so yeah a year with no booze on top of it. I still smoked weed everyday, but that is coming to an end as well.

I wish I could say that today I find myself stronger and have overcome and got a whole new look and love of life. I can not. Only a few days ago I spend four days going though hours upon hours of contemplating killing myself and various ways to do it. I spent hours researching why I felt like I did and if it was possible to have a good quality of life. I still am not convinced i will have a good life. I think it will be a struggle every single day to just remain grounded and hold my emotions together. I think no matter what amount of medicine I take, its never going to be enough. It will always be a game of cat and mouse to keep me and my chemicals balanced.

I can’t even take care of myself. I get so desperate and cling to anything that comes by when I’m stressed because I have a high level of lifestyle that I keep. My OCD makes me feel unable to fully relax around anyone else, and to live in something small or gross or loud. I keep myself down and depending on others because its impossible for me to work a normal job and keep such a high standard of living. I am so broke. Yet, I will still go buy my friend a vodka for breakfast and eat at a diner instead of the hotel breakfast.Why? because the hotel breakfast looked gross and I wouldn’t eat it. Thats serious. I really wouldn’t eat it. So I keep myself down. I feel like it gets worse every year.

I wish I could be the poster girl of hard work can over come mental illness. I wish I had faith that I would be totally okay and “normal” again. I can’t. I am unsure if I ever will. I think anyone with mental illness would agree, there is no guarantee that we will find a way to live happily. We all want it, but truly our illness stops us. My illness stops me from having a good routine and feeling peaceful around other people. Its like how someone with  a serious physical can’t go out running and cook themselves healthy food. The illness stops you from it. If its not my emotions then its my mania. Then my mania turns into depression and my depression gets so bad until I finally pull myself together. I drag myself up and get strength and then have a few good weeks or sometimes only a full week of plans and diagrams and charts and journals of my progress. I “finally got it together!” to only fail on the slightest departure from my routine or plan. One day of extra laziness in the morning stops me from doing yoga anymore. One day. Its bananas. Its my illness. I don’t even know how to stop that cycle. I know its absurd, and I can “start today”! but for some reason I have yet to find a way to do it.

Nobody called or congratulated me. Nobody even checked in on me. I had 5 different people know of my deep darkness last week, and even left in a hurry the other morning to “go be alone” and never asked if I was okay. I even told several people that today was my anniversary of no booze and some of hospital. Nothing. No support. No encouragement. No good job! Nothing.

Why would someone like me want to keep fighting? what am i even fighting for? to fight? i fucking hate it. I want to be peaceful and quiet. I want to be safe and sound. I want to be stable. I want to be in my own world, if I have to. I want to not have to defend myself and my emotions all the time. I want to be seen and not judged.

How do I teach myself how to live?