I’ve been through a lot while being beautifully bipolar, a hell of a lot. 4 hospitalizations. Strip searches. Drug tests. Blood withdrawals. Psych visits. Therapist after therapist. Sometimes you are so low you want to die. Last week I didn’t get out for a day and night. But that isn’t what people want to hear. They want the rainbows and sunshine. They want you to be rainbows and sunshine. They don’t want to know about those dark times you experiences because it hurts them to think about you being in mental anguish.
My psych doctor told there are people that are different categories.
1. Friends that understand and can help
2. Friends that love you but handle it
3. And those who don’t even want to know your mental illness exists
Some people believe you should leave the past in the past, but when these mental memories are imprinted on your brain, easier said than done. I was in the midst of sharing an experience when someone got up and literally walked away. That makes me want to hide my story. That makes me feel shame and I won’t.
I will continue to share. I will endlessly seek to publish my memoir because my story is important.
Your story is important.