I want you to see this raw and honest piece that I know we all can relate to.
In it the author asks, “How do you tell a story that unfolds every day?”
And I want to know. How do you? Really? It is the story of our own personal and collective growing and evolving relationship with this thing we call Bipolar. And what is more how do we explain this story to others? How do we share this story in a world that either doesn’t want to hear it or that wants to write it for us? From the media to the mental health profession. They think they know. They think they know our story. Only we truly know that they do not.
I am not a therapist, a doctor, a shaman, or a cleric. I didn’t earn a doctorate in magic or “find myself” while residing at an Ashram in India. I don’t cast manifestation stones or consult with the stars, and I haven’t rejected razors, given up meat, or purchased a hybrid vehicle. If you’re looking for a sage, I’m not your girl.
I do, however, have a modicum of perspective when it comes to negotiating balance. As a working mother and lovesome wife, I am trying to nurture an identity of my own, and this is as good a time as any to mention that I must attend to those responsibilities while simultaneously struggling with attention deficits and bipolar disorder.
I wish I could say that these particular facets of my life were insignificant, but they are not. Every time I open the medicine cabinet in the morning…
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