Deep Breath
I'm going to take a deep breath and just begin to write. Writing has always been an escape for me. I write poems about the darkside of me that I let very few people see. I write stories about characters that live out the lives and fantsays that I wish I could. I had what I guess could only be called a psycotic episode two weeks ago. I set down at my computer at work and couldn't stop crying(luckily I was alone). I decided to write in the hopes that it would calm me down. I just opened up a word document and started typing, by the end I had a sucide note. I read it back to myself as if I was reading a strangers words and it scared me. It's not the first sucide note I written I have a few of them, but I was always able to pull myself out of that hole before it was too late. I would look at my son, or talk to my boyfriend or write it all out and stick in my journal. Hide it or try to anyway. But this time it was like another person was writing it. I still have it and I can't read it because it still scares me how close to the edge I was.
I called my boyfriend 10 times and hung up each time afraid of what would come out. My boyfriend then called my sister (who is a doctor) and she called me. I picked up the phone and I could barely get any words out. Next thing I know I being rushed to Christ hospital. I was there for 10 days. And after a misdiganosis, two doctors, prozact, atavin, depakote, and seriquill I was branded for life with BiPolar disorder. I took the news better than anyone else around me. I was actually happy to have a name for it. I went through so many years of people telling me everybody feels like this, there's nothing wrong, with you, stop being lazy, she's just doing it for attention, etc. That I was almost estactic to know that I wasn't crazy I wasn't making it up. It was real and you can only fight things that are real. Thats why the boogie man is still out there terrizing young children today.
So I'm begining this journey that could possibly take the rest of my life. But I'm thankful that these last few weeks are the begining and not the end.
I called my boyfriend 10 times and hung up each time afraid of what would come out. My boyfriend then called my sister (who is a doctor) and she called me. I picked up the phone and I could barely get any words out. Next thing I know I being rushed to Christ hospital. I was there for 10 days. And after a misdiganosis, two doctors, prozact, atavin, depakote, and seriquill I was branded for life with BiPolar disorder. I took the news better than anyone else around me. I was actually happy to have a name for it. I went through so many years of people telling me everybody feels like this, there's nothing wrong, with you, stop being lazy, she's just doing it for attention, etc. That I was almost estactic to know that I wasn't crazy I wasn't making it up. It was real and you can only fight things that are real. Thats why the boogie man is still out there terrizing young children today.
So I'm begining this journey that could possibly take the rest of my life. But I'm thankful that these last few weeks are the begining and not the end.