So, I know I’ve said this about my meds like a billion times before, but I think they are working. I hope they keep working. I know people with bipolar are more likely to go off their medications when they feel better, and that still blows my mind. It’s been quite the three months for both myself and my friends and family.
I’ve only been on medication (just antidepressants with no stabilizer until this year) in general since December 2016. I’ve been in therapy for a little less than a year. I’ve been ill my entire life, I just didn’t know it and later on, didn’t believe myself. I let overwhelming stigma keep me from seeing the writing on the wall. I’ve toed the line between life and death countless times, and I have my friends to thank for keeping me here. They’ve continuously fought for me when they had no idea what they were fighting.
I’ve read a couple memoirs from individuals who have or had Bipolar, and it will be a continuous fight. There may never be a last depressive episode. There may never be the last day of hypomania. But I consider it a win that I can get up in the morning and be relatively sure about how I will feel that day. Maybe now I won’t cycle between moods every 6 hours or go from “The world is amazing!” to “I want to die…” in a matter of minutes. It’s comforting to think that maybe I CAN now make plans and have a hope of actually being able to keep them.
I do still have a deep worry about the medication ceasing to work. It has happened to others in the community and even to my friends. The idea of relapse scares me. But I’ll do my best to try to keep the worries out of my mind. I feel lucky that I am feeling better just in time for summer. Rose and I are going to make the most of it. The world is our oyster in this sometimes questionable buffet of life.