lonely

having pills in the house is akin to keeping a loaded gun around.

i can only beg for help so many times.

i can only hurt this much for so long.

Where does it start and where do I begin???

Where is the line between illness and individual?

Where does Bipolar start and where do I begin?

Where is the line that determines where symptoms stop and the real me begins?

I am responsible for every single thing I do. I do not dispute this, never have. But do I deserve to be punished for behaviours and actions that are a direct result of symptoms of my disorder over which I truly, at times, have no control?

Where does the blame start? And where does it end?

Where does compassion and empathy belong, and when is harsh cold blame the only option?

I never meant to hurt anyone. Never wanted to hurt anyone. Not one single person, ever, in my entire life.

But my disease has hurt them. My crazy actions spurred on by my disease have hurt them. My desperate attempts to just make the pain stop because the Bipolar will just not let go have hurt them.

Where do I stop and it begins?

As of right now, I really don't know....

I don't ever wanna let anyone down...

Today has been a really hard day.

No particular reason. Woke up, and within seconds could just tell that it was going to be a struggle just to make it through. One of those dark cloud, black hole, cannot find the light no matter how hard you look kind of days. The kind where it feels like apathy swallowed your heart and you couldn't bring yourself to care if your life depended on it. The kind filled with the confusion of somehow being numb and in pain all at the same time.

Ya, one of those days.

It started with me in tears on the kitchen floor because the jam I tried to make for my sister didn't turn out. This tiny mistake brought on a wash of failure shame that I am still struggling to make it out of 10 hours later.

I don't want to let anyone down.

I can't let anyone know how poorly I'm doing, I don't want to let them down.

A very wise online sister, and an incredibly smart close friend have repeatedly told me that I am too hard on myself. I guess I am. I don't know how to be anything else.

I feel like I am letting down my daughters by not being the healthy vibrant mother they deserve. I feel like I am letting down my parents for not succeeding and thriving as an adult after all the promise I showed as a child. I feel like I'm letting my sister down because I have not been able to reach out in kindness to her since a ridiculous meaningless fight almost 3 years ago. I feel like I am letting society down by being a drain instead of an asset. I feel like I have let down countless friends, family members, and partners in the last 20 years just by being unable to be consistent, reliable, and supportive. And I feel like I am letting myself down. By still being sick. Still being weak and unable to fight. Still being stuck, and lost, and hopeless. By not doing more, not being more.

The truth is I let myself down every day. It's rather easy, because if I am honest I don't feel that I deserve any better. It's hard to fight for someone that you don't feel is worthy of fighting for. It's hard to get better when deep down you're pretty sure pain is all you deserve.

I don't like myself. I don't. I haven't in a really, really long time.

So I overcompensate. I try to be pretty so that people won't catch on that I'm sick. I try to be thin, because how can you be sad when you're skinny? I spoil my daughters to alleviate some of the guilt of being a sick, semi-absent mother. I buy really nice gifts for my family, because in my deluded mind this will make them believe that I am doing well so that they never catch on to how badly I am struggling.

I don't want to let them down.

I don't want to spend 2 weeks in Saskatchewan at my parents' house over Christmas. It is hard on me mentally, emotionally, and physically. My daughters want that, my parents want that, so I do it anyway.

I don't want to let them down.

Mine has become a life of smoke and mirrors. If I distract everyone with a pretty shiny outside, and throw on a fake smile no one will ever realize how broken and pathetic I am.

It hurts. It hurts all the time.

But I don't want to let them down.

I really have nothing to say

Sitting.

Staring.

Eyes glazed over.

Mind blank.

The desire is there, but the words just won't come.


The anger comes easily.

Pain floods uncontrollably.

Explosions of violence, self-hatred, self-harm.

Anything just to get it out.

Anything just to make it stop.


Pain and hurt are easy, truth is hard.

So the words stay stuck.

Trapped inside.

Boiling.

Tormenting.

Too fast, too erratic to catch.


The desire is there, but the words just won't come.

Sitting.

Staring.

Eyes glazed over.

Mind blank.


Soul in agony.

To Whom it May Concern:

I'm not worth saving.

Apparently I'm not worth anything.

And I deserve nothing. Except pain.

Message received.

Loud and clear.

As if the Bipolar wasn't enough, I have to deal with Ignorance too??

I tried...

Just because someone's pain isn't visible doesn't mean it's not real.

Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's not valid.

Just because you can't empathize doesn't make killing them ok.


If I had cancer people would care. Automatic empathy and compassion, no questions asked.

Why, just because it involves my brain am I constantly blamed, shamed, mocked, judged, and attacked. I didn't think I deserved it. I really tried not to believe that I did. But i must, because it never stops. It never ever stops.


I gave it all I had, I really did. I tried. I tried and tried and tried. But I am too tired. I am too damn tired and it hurts too much.

I have nothing left. I really truly have nothing left. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was supposed to be so much more than this.

I was supposed to be so much more than this......