The pain of being bipolar

Nearly 2 years ago I decided to try and end my own life. Obviously, it didn't work. (Either that or I'm a very solid ghost.) After that attempt I had to spend a week in the hospitals mental health unit. I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. Basically, it's like depression, but you also get these super hyper up times, which are just as dangerous as depression. More fun, but dangerous all the same.

Since last year, I have been struggling with treatment of my disorder. I have seen psychologists, psychiatrists, been to support groups and been on a few different types of medicine. Every time it seems I've finally got a handle on it, something quits working; something goes wrong, and I never know what.

Perhaps my brains chemistry changes so fast that the medicines can't keep up. Maybe the meds aren't as effective as the doctors would like to believe. Or maybe I'm going to end up as one of those women who is locked up in a mental home for the rest of her life becuase no one can do anything for her.

An outsider would think my life is almost perfect right now. I have a home, a job, a man who loves me, a wonderful son, two cats and two dogs, and am going back to school. I have very few bills, a sharp mind, and a "good" personality. But what would an outsider know? He wouldn't know how I can look at all of these wonderful things, and not feel connected to a single one of them. How quickly I can go from feeling on top of the world, to feeling like I want nothing more than to disapear.

There are so few things I want. I want to see my son grow up. I want to go back to school. I want to be happy.

Why do I have to be one of the some two million of people in the US with this disorder? I don't understand why my brain has to be this way. As far as I know, no one else in my family will admit to having any kind of mental illness, except for a cousin (mom's side) who suffers from depression. I beleive there might be something wrong with my older half sister, who has been treated for alcoholism, as self medicating is very common in bipolars.

But it's not the same as someone else I know saying "it's okay, you're not alone."

I have one very good friend who does know, and does understand, and we lean on each other quite a bit. There's a much different perspective talking to him than talking to my therapist. I think it helps us both.

I don't feel suicidal, just tired and apathetic. I'm crying easily again, which hasn't happened in while. I think about my son and miss him so very much. I look at my loving BF and wonder if we can stay together because of how I can be. I have desires to run away and hide from everyone I know just so no one will know I'm sick.

It's days like these I miss having manias. I was just as sick, but at least those are fun.

My fantasy holiday wishlist: to be cured.