It’s time I accepted something isn’t right with me.
This past year has been amazing, up to July, when I lost the plot and suffered a couple of psychosis.
The diagnosis is Bipolar Type 1. Something I have fervently refused to accept since being back from Canada over five years ago now as I had never had any mental health issues up to then but I must face reality.
I have had six psychosis now since my husband left me and two depressions.
As I write, I am fighting another depression.
Things had been going good til my reality hit me: signed off work with long days of nothing to do, it soon drives you insane.
It did me.
On top of that, my new lover has been sectioned again, he can’t cope with the real world he said, and he was suicidal.
So he is now locked up an hour away from me and he is not fit for visitors. I don’t know what will happen to us.
Part of the depression is realising the damage I caused when I was in psychosis mode. The people I have upset, the relationships that have broken down. I am lucky work took me back as I sent some “interesting” emails to them during that time.
Being alone is weighing hard on me too. I realise I have no-one, no-one to help me in this journey called life. It’s really tough doing it alone.
Every day I am reaching out where I can but it doesn’t feel like it’s making a difference.
So BP1, what does that mean for me? How is my life going to be affected by this?
I am now taking anti-psychotic medication, via a jab every two weeks, should I be medicated for depression too? When does the darkness become too much that it needs medication? Can I even cope with life?
I don’t know what to do anymore. I let each day unfold, hoping it will be a better day but each night I am relieved when it is time to go to bed, another day over. Waiting for the day I will feel better.
Will it happen just like that? Will there be a day I wake up with a smile on my face again?
I had hoped never to experience depression again, I had hoped wrong.