Only Time Will Tell

Only Time Will Tell

Only Time Will Tell

Yesterday I experienced care-free fun for the first time in months.  I was happy.  Unfortunately this was in a dream, but I'm grateful for it nonetheless. I was riding in a car with three old ladies, all of whom were in their nineties.  The lady that was driving hadn't driven in years, and it was apparent, but that didn't stop her from turning up the radio and singing at the top of her lungs with a full blown smile.  There were two other old ladies in the car, and they joined in with the singing, as did I.  We were just four people in a car, having the time of our lives. 

When I was manic, it felt like I had purpose.  It seemed like I was living each day on Felix Felicis potion.  Each step seemed pre-ordained, like an inspiration.  I was on a collision course, but it didn't feel like it.  It felt like I was on my way to something great.  And then the crash came.  The reality sunk in, and so did the depression.

No matter how many times I hear the words, "you'll get through it" or "it could have been worse," it doesn't sink in.  I don't feel  like I will ever get through it.  I feel like I destroyed my life and will never be able to rebuild.  I feel trapped.  I want to run away from it all.

My therapist tells me that feelings aren't facts, and that I need to remember that I didn't choose to have Bipolar Disorder.  It was the Bipolar Disorder that destroyed my life, not me.  It's really hard to separate those things, and I'm finding myself continuing to struggle with the fact that my actions were those of the disease, not me, and yet they were acted out by me. 

I read a post on The Mental Illness Happy Hour Podcast forum today by someone who claimed to be addicted to their mania, and I can relate. The statement that rang true more than any other was, "Part of me is afraid I will never feel that up again..."  Part of me feels right now like I will never be up at all again.

I have always wanted to tell an inspirational story, one about a life that was difficult, and that I got through it.  I don't think I have that capability any longer.  My life feels like it is over, like I peaked at an early age, and the rest is going to consist of isolation, constant anxiety, fear of the future, and dread.  I understand intellectually that this is not the case, but emotionally, I don't feel that I'll have anything different. 

I wish that I had nice, uplifting things to write about for this blog.  This is not the type of content that I envisioned for this blog, but it's the only content I have for the time being.  Perhaps one day, the content will turn to being more uplifting and the site can take on a purposeful stance of being there to help others.  Only time will tell.