I’ve had a long decade. But specifically a long past 3 years. My bipolar has been tough to treat and I was nearly ready to just give it all up. I was frustrated, tired and mentally unstable. That is not a good combo. Then, when all seemed lost for good, my psychiatrist pulls out what he said was his final option of medication for me. It’s been 8 weeks and I haven’t felt this “normal” and like myself in 10 years.
I’ve spent time in residential treatment; I’ve been hospitalized acutely. I’ve been in therapy 2x a week for years and I’ve been on more medication combinations than I can even recall at this point. And finally, after all the work and effort my treatment team and myself have put forth, it finally has paid off. I am able to live in the moment right now. I’m not suicidal. I’m not nearly as depressed. I’m not as anxious. I feel human again and I can’t even begin to explain how happy it makes me to feel so alive.
But, as usual with the good comes the bad. My beloved therapist of 9 years accepted a job offer out of state. To say I’m heartbroken is an understatement. But I know this will be good for him and he deserves the opportunities that lie ahead of him. It’s just hard to say goodbye to someone you’ve become so close to.
I do feel like this is a time of new beginnings though. For him, for me and hopefully for my life to take a positive spin.
Hope. A word I’ve struggled with for years. A word I questioned its validity. A word I nearly gave up on. It’s a word I now believe in. I pray things continue as they are and only get better form here.~Lindsay