This should be my note:

The prominent point we all have in our lives, that overwhelming feeling that engulfs us when we come to the obvious conclusion that we don’t know who we are anymore? striped of our identity, forced and beaten with social stigmas, relentlessly habitually trying; dragging ourselves out of the bed away to the brutal reality once more.

I was such an ignorant child, I truly believed the concept and notion of everything having a fundemental difference, people we converse with manipulating and changing is as people, re shaping us. When I was abandoned I implemented this, reassuring myself that its okay because daddy diddnt mean to hurt me and mummy, they would come for me soon, they wouldn’t ever leave me they love me right? Excruciating, the only way in which can describe when I became illuminated by knowledge and the outside world, we as humans are programmed to survive, that unfortunately and regrettably means you have t kill the person you once were, that innocent child could never resurface, for the fragmentation of his broken disposition was still jagged within me. The burns and scars a permanent reminder of the me I used to be, because what else is there in life?

The overriding principal that profoundly impacts upon us, that gives us both direction and encouragement were, were is it? I have tried religion, science everything the only thing I find relief in is pain, a somewhat contorted and ironic drug of choice I know. But that sensation I receive when I see the blade glinting with the crimson stain of blood, its an adrenaline fix like no other, better than the weed, the drink, a wave of pressure that has been smothering you like a hazy cloud is suddenly revoked, and satisfaction invades, a guilty pleasure some might say. Vices – they are crucial, some might even categorize as paramount for our survival, if we are turned on we have sex, if we are stressed we smoke so why is cutting when numb not acceptable?

And whilst the rant is on, I might give you advice, dont ever fall in love, for what is supposed to be a beautiful thing I just find it confusing, heart wrenching and difficult. I am one who is not ashamed to admit that I have no problems getting undressed and getting to know you in this sense, its not when his sweet caress made my clothing melt, or when his lips touched mine they burnt like ciggerates, its the lack of protection, the breaking down of the walls and phasade that you have contentiously put up, that’s the hard bit … well in my opinion anyway. This is coming from a self identified freak, but im starting to think that there is no point, no larger picture that we are all individually working to.

This feeling of sadness is devastatingly consuming, smothering me like a pillow to a child s face. People leave a letter normally, I diddnt on my previous two attempts because I have always had nothing to say on the matter, but when im gone I want these series to be my note. What I have always wanted to say but could never find the words for, and dear god I sincerely hope that all of you struggling find your voices, see i used to believe that some were just not meant to be heard, but then I hear his, and yearn for his deep laugh and chuckle; he is so sweet, unassuming and beautiful that he would never understand that my departure is due to him, having something so perfect like that, will only lead to dismay, and sweet bitter resentment.

I don’t know if this is love but its intoxicating, because of you I know why storms are named after people, because of the damage and destruction upon which they inflict. Your words cut deeper than knives, penetrating through all the barriers you broke down, you forced me to trust you, I did, shame you were unable to implement the same curtsy.

I once knew someone who had a similar mind to that of mine, only he had considerable better people reading skills than me. We spoke of topics such as the labyrinth and how straight and fast is okay if you’ve exhausted out all other possibility’s. Because it comes down to basic facts in life, whose there for you? are you happy? if you just subconsciously answered no to both of these questions then im sorry because its inevitable you shall end up with the same somewhat tragic fate as me. I honestly thought that doing a history degree, would help me understand the world that surrounds me, but all I see is injustice, revolution, tyranny and death. Aristotle once wrote what is educating the mind when you dont educate the heart. My heart has safe to say had enough of learning, learning about all of the pain and sadness, it is everywhere and I do not know how to stop noticing it. this is me understanding, death is not cowardly, the thing with depression is your either victorious or its going to kill you. I have spent so long trying to get better now and it is safe to pronounce that im done, I hate unanswered questions, you were always an unanswered question to me. For the answer was love and through meeting you , i realsied that is something I can never reciprocate, for everything is black, and haunting and I am unable to live in a world like this. I want to be free once more, liberated the weight in my chest is so heavy, now it needs to stop beating.

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You had me at ‘ciao’

I have such a distinct hatred for being vulnerable, he’s the exception though, I yearn for him- all of you – your sweet scent, your warmth and your closeness. My head is a catastrophic mess currently with so many erratic thoughts ricocheting around the deepest of my insides with such a heated intensity that words escape me.

I find it most ironic I would like to classify it as irony, but the honest truth is this –  it disgusts me with such a raw passion. After you have been that intimate and shared everything, not only refined to the physicality you shared with them but all your thoughts, fears and dreams. When you relinquished and recoiled from me it felt abstract and uncertain – to not be around them.

The most satisfying thing he gave to me was his trust and in an ultimate sense himself, for he did not care about the scars and cuts that littered my arm, it just contributed to what it meant, to what being close and accepted to him meant.

smile because you made it, your still here

Living with Bipolar is excruciatingly painful, but its crucial to remember that you are not your illness. Although at times it can feel utterly consuming, as though you are isolated and imprisoned within your own mind your not what the voices dictate you to be. life is a series of choices we consecutively make that cause a chain of consequential reactions, I am not saying we are our choices because I don’t feel that’s fair. Its human error and inevitable to have moments were reason is abolished by irrationality, but happiness is an abstract noun – a concept and emotion not a state of mind, the more people accept that its okay to not be walking around ecstatic perhaps the more truthful their happiness would be.

“Happiness is the small things” there is defiantly a partial truth within this theory, for me happiness is more subconscious; for example, when your stomach hurts so intensely because you’ve been laughing so much with a close friend or reading a bed time story to your nephew and realizing how lucky you actually are. Yes I have bipolar, yes its shit and I spend a disproportionate time contemplating launching myself in front of a train or walking across A line roofs with my eyes closed but that’s only a part of me and im beginning to accept that, although its going to take a lot more time, I feel im finally getting there, and that’s a start for I may not be there yet, but I am closer than I was yesterday.

lie to me

Tell a lie

fake a smile

“you seem sad?”

push denial

“I’m alright”

choose your weapon

carve a line

tie the knot

pull the string

self destruction

such a beautiful thing

lost and alone seeking reassurance

the unknown is categorically terrifying, it evokes my deepest and most sincere fears, you can not plan for it and you defiantly can not escape from it (it turns out no matter with how much persistance you pursue this with). I am currently sat in my new university room, shaking and sweating out paranoia. I’m entirly isolated within the prison of my own mind, consistently and forcefully telling me im going to fail before I have even begun.

For him …

youth and nativity both contributed to allure me to him, he was dark, secretive and older (turn on for any teenage girl). He was a broken and lost man, and there is nothing more intoxicatingly attractive in the world. I yearned to fix him, to complete him; yet the sobering reality is his coldness absorbed me, I became consumed by his damming darkness and acquired an obscene obsession to releasing his pain.

He was never loving or compassionate and the concept of empathy, was one of which completely surpassed him. The mask remained firmly positioned throughout our whole charade of a relationship. Emotions always had to be suppressed, it was always just sex. Although always pleasurable and giving, consistently cold; I would trace the scars that littered his forearm like forbidden secrets, as his kisses burnt my lips like cigarettes, I still embrace and relish these moments with a sickening sense of nostalgia.

As I cut myself on the shards of his broken disposition, the overwhelming desperation to evoke feeling relinquished and all that remained were two numb people, desperately searching and seeking to feel something real. The day he left I fell, yet I didn’t hit the ground for the brutal truth is, I have been falling ever since, to this day I still yearn for his painful embrace, to be reunited with his beautifully damaged soul.

the secrets of a Bipolar

Fear is one of the most horrific, powerful emotions ever invested within a human being. It strips us of the limitations we place upon ourselves, because everything we want is out of our comfort zones, and sometimes we need that fear to push us.

Without the fear of failing, I wouldn’t of got were I am today, fear is positive in this regard, however panic is were it all disintegrates and unravels. Am I scared about moving the entire life I have created over the past 18 years to a different city, and starting university? absolutely (I mean the thought of having to do my own washing strikes fear into me like nothing else), but this is me embracing that fear.

They say the best way to deal with fear, is to put a face on it and confront it. So that’s what I am attempting to do through this blog; you see I am not the typical student, I’m not scared of the social hierarchy (or who’s the best person to hang out with). Because the truth remains that even after all these years and getting here, there’s still a minute section of me which is terrified of failing and letting those around me down. But I think in reality if we are all being honest that section lives deep down within all of us, revealing our deepest seated insecurities (even those who appear super confident have them), no one wants to admit or be told that they are not good enough.

I am aware and have a competent understanding that in reality, I am probably not going to impact this world I walk on in a huge or overly significant way (there goes my seven year old dream of becoming prime minster). There are just over seven billion people that walk this world alongside me, but I do still believe what we do is important. After all we impact each others life significantly with friends or lovers, and no one can deny how special that is. For example A made a huge significant impact on my life, and restored the chance of me having a future, he made me laugh when I didn’t even want to smile and trust me on this; everything that we do is still important. Okay so yeah, you know what we probably aren’t going to be the next ghandi or Nelson Mandela and restore or initiate civil and world peace but that doesn’t make us any less important on this planet. Our lives are what we make of it, and im going to ensure that I am the hero of my own story, the lead actor so to say.

“If we were rain, she would be a hurricane and I would be drizzle” admittedly I am certainly not a preacher of fate, but there are ways things seem to fall together in life, through the people we meet, things we do. But for me it is the people we meet that really change our fate, in a sad way A will always be the hero of my story, because when he first found me I was just a damp squandering drizzle, yet he gave me the strength to turn into a hurricane. The ironic thing about this metaphor is hurricanes are strong, a force of nature and sometimes even dangerous. It’s not to say that A made me perfect (I don’t think I would have wanted him to do that) I still make mistakes and get things wrong but as life goes on I am gradually beginning to realize that that’s okay, cliche as it sounds it is how we learn (I mean after my 18th I will never mix tequila and whiskey together).

Another metaphor M gave to me was that some people are like supernovas (if you dont know what one of these are google it), they shine brightly and intensely light up the whole sky, yet there hermatia is that hey die rapidly, because of being so bright they burn themselves out. This metaphor, extended as it is I know translates beautiful to suicide, I think in August I had just burnt myself out from trying to shine so brightly. But, I do believe that some supernovas continue on for a long time shining just as bright, take M for example; he has had his fair share of life experience but he still burns bright, not in some aspects of his life but within himself and with his compassion and understanding.

Relentless recovery

Its liberating, exciting and somewhat thrilling (well what can I say, I am a self confessed geek). Instead of letting anxiety plague and invade my world, I’m allowing positivity to prosper at the prospect of moving to university in 11 days! We have all heard the saying (I live for cliches, I know) about new chapters and new beginnings, but I can honestly say with sincerity, that I truly do believe there is something in that.

For me university is a place to start over. (Not that there aren’t aspects of my life I like), its not about getting a group of new friends, or being academically challenged, its more egocentric than that (I guess that makes me pretty vein); its about applying my new found self confidence, and optimism. Although as you can tell from this blog I don’t mind sharing my story, It will be a enriching experience to go somewhere were people know nothing about me, and I don’t become that girl with bipolar,or the one who tried to kill herself, but i’m just me.

An update (in case any of you are interested) in the university preparation world. Firstly there’s actually a lot of shit to do, in fact between the nervous breakdowns whilst waiting for my results to eventually be published, to completing the summer reading, which is a pile of books which amounts to the size of Evarist (okay so maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but you get my point, there is a lot!). But im enjoying reading the academic publications of historians, I think its important to set yourself goals, not just the realistic boring ones (like get through university without dying or ending up in a mental asylum) but one day, I would love to be the one publishing books of historical significant, this I feel is more realistic than my seven year old goal; which resulted in me planning to become the next female prime minster (I have always been ambitious as you can tell).

Its kind of a funny story…

you know that really funny thing that happens, (no, I don’t mean that video on Facebook) im referring to  that time you were accidentally admitted into a psychiatric unit; (not what you were thinking huh, me either). The hysterical laughter of which plagued the corridors, will taunt me until my very last breath, and that’s without the traumatized shrieking and repetitive rocking.

Okay so I can see how trying to take your own life can be perceived as, well maybe a little crazy and hey, even slightly disillusion. Not that anyone will ever believe me but I wasn’t insane for my actions that night (I promise) I was just growing a little tired of life’s bullshit (but I guess we have all been there).

I understand (sort of) that I had to remain with the doctors in white coats, especially after being asked if I regretted my actions, and well me being me, spontaneously but alas truthfully coming out with, “only that I diddnt go with the rope”. But believe me when I say (yes thats right trust the crazy person) I did NOT belong in that place, and I remain certain a year later; that my stay in the secured unit, caused me sever psychological damage (I came out in a worse state then when I had gone in).

one of my viewers suggested being more positive, so looking at the plus side, I did have several very attractive (I’m talking solid 9’s) doctors of which I wouldn’t have minded examining me!

It was only when I was hospitalized, that I realized, I was actually ill, despite taking a cocktail of pills washed down by a bottle of yagar (now you understand the dread of waking up, not only the reality of my actions to face up to but also the killer hangover). I never really believed I was ill. You see my disorder had been lying dormant for years, but it was only once I received a diagnosis I began to accept that there was something wrong with me.

I still don’t think I will ever come to a full acceptance (im stubborn like that) but with a few beautiful people I’m slowly getting there. There are two people in my life who got me through some really dark abysses, who made me see I can do things, (turns out I just needed a bit of hand holding, reassurance and self belief). I will refer to them as M and A.

A gave me hope, he built me back up and returned my wavering self confidence, (every time I would tear it down, he would build it back up again and again) he was also one of the first people to ensure he was always there, no matter what the situation (or how stupid) I was being. Although I think me and M see the world through very different perspectives, I can honestly say (although I don’t think he’d believe me) that im not sure I would be here writing this blog without either of them and for that I am eternally grateful.

living with a mental illness, or in fact life as a more generalized concept is difficult but I really do believe we mend each other, cliche as this sounds (I know) people fixed my broken pieces and put me back together (bit by bit, it took a long time!). I feel very lucky and privileged to have both M and B in my life.

having a mental illness is hard, but talking about it shouldn’t be! the only way to get rid of a social stigma is to refuse to conform. I’m not proud of having Bipolar, but im proud of how I deal with the curve balls it throws in my life, and I never have been nor ever will be ashamed of it.