Heavy words…

I meticulously research everything about my disease, knowledge is power and so before I take a new medication I learn all I can about it; before I started therapy I knew all I could about how cognitive behavioural therapy works and when I was given my diagnosis of Bipolar disorder, I read and read and read… The hardest thing to read about my illness was its propensity to hurt and wear upon those who care for me. I know that I have the potential to hurt others, don’t we all, I have hurt many people in the past whilst lost and absorbed in my own selfish, screaming oblivion.

I realise how frustrating and soul-destroying it must be to care for and support a person with Bipolar disorder, it can be frustrating for me, the ups and the downs, the senselessness, anger, fear, irrationality and there is nothing you can do that will help me. There is no action to take that will aid me. Sure, there are mental health professionals, there is medication, you can stop me causing myself physical harm, you can lock me away, you can take me out, free me of some pressures… but you’ll never fix me, you’ll never fully understand. I can see why the advice to any carer is to distance yourself every now and then, to have other means of support for yourself… but it hurts. It hurts that I will never be that means of support for anyone, it hurts that I may be causing people pain without being aware of it and I have a great fear that one day, my support network may reach breaking point and leave in a bid of self-preservation, but what hurts the most is that I wouldn’t blame them for leaving for a second.

I am locked on this path; I need an outlet, I need to express these overwhelming emotions and fears. My disease lacks consistency, yesterdays Cheryl may be full of positivity and strength, a plan for the future and a dream in her heart but todays Cheryl will fall down a hole of negativity, swallowed in a dark abyss that only she can see, all she feels is hate and she cannot see a minute ahead let alone beyond the horizon of a dozen years. It is confusing and infuriating to others, I know it, but I am powerless to help it.

I started this blog in the hope that I could avoid burdening my friends and family with the spewings of my inner turmoil, avoid being seen as the embodiment of negativity and melancholy, drama and exaggeration as I have so often in the past; but, though it may just be my current mood playing tricks on me, I feel even more of a burden than before. I want to free them from the responsibility of supporting me but sometimes heavy words need to be spoken; though I fear my voice may be too heavy for the ears around me when I eventually find it again…

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One thought on “Heavy words…

  1. Remember that depression is a liar..it will say whatever it has to in order to keep you down or to make you feel even worse. Just let that fucker take its course and slowly float back up to the surface…don’t worry…you’ll be back..you are loved and you are loveable and all is well.

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