I have so many things I want to write about right now.

I want to write about the desire I’ve always had to be (it’s ok to judge me) supported by a man. And I do not mean financially like a trophy wife because I already lived that this summer and it fucking sucked. I mean why I continuously seek a man to come and rescue me from the loneliness I have felt my entire life. A man that I know is safe, reliable, deeply committed to doing what it would take to make sure I’m ok and is there to catch me every single time I fall. I want to talk about where I think that need comes from, and why I believe it leads me to choose the same, and I mean cookie cutter same, kind of partner every single time. I want to talk about why I don’t agree that someone has to be okay with being alone, why I don’t know if I will ever really be satisfied if I don’t find that person and how (as of right now) I’m not ashamed to say that.

I want to write about the things I can recognize that I have been doing/thinking the last two years. How talking to my best friend that’s known me for over 15 years the other night made me realize something that was both eye opening and devastating and terrifying all at once but could potentially put an end to patterns of heartbreak and ruin.

I want to write a letter to the people who love me. Not like my casual friends or distant family, but the people who are and have been active in my life for a long time. The people that have genuinely experienced true pain watching me continuously hurt and betray myself. I want to tell them that I think I finally grasp how out of control my mind is. That how I thought because my thoughts didn’t look the same or as bad as they have in the past that my thinking wasn’t still distorted. I want to write them an apology because I have now read my own words from the beginning and I am hurt and angry at myself. I want to talk about how none of this has been done intentionally or out of blatant disregard, but that I can’t imagine how it has felt for them. That I do trust them but it’s impossible for me not to listen to my own voice. That I really want to fix this cycle of destruction.

I want to talk about the loneliness of bipolar. How painful it has been to have the person I love most use my disorder as a reason to justify why my needs are unreasonable, or my feelings are too sensitive, or my memory is distorted but would dismiss when I actually have effects from it. That he would tell me after I have expressed my hurt from his behavior that I needed to remember that I was “sick” but would tell me that it didn’t make sense that I could have episode that lasted months. That I must have been semi aware of my decisions and question the validity of the diagnosis I received while he was in the room next to me. That he would shape my symptoms into reasons why I wasn’t loyal, didn’t love him like I said I did, or was a harmful person. I want to write about the loneliness I feel when I try and reach out for help and the guilt that follows. That I cannot put into words that just because I’m not going to kill my self doesn’t mean that I don’t seriously need support and that I am suffering. I want to talk about how hard it is to have any kind of hope when statistically I have a significantly lower life span, a higher chance of suicide, no hope of a cure, can only be controlled with meds and life changes, and the older I get the worse it will get. I want to talk about how it felt watching my father transform into a monster and then die and how it feels knowing that could be my future.

I want to write about the confusion of what a mixed episode feels like, and my experiences as I am currently in one as I write this.

I want to write about how exhausting and frustrating it is to have taken on so many responsibilities and dug myself so deep into things when I was manic and able it, that now that I have severely lost some of my executive functioning skills, it feels impossible to survive sometimes.

I have alot I want to write about. I started this post last night and didn’t have the energy to finish.

I’m making this list to hold myself accountable.

I have really big changes coming this week. I’m moving in with my mom so that I can rely on my family for support instead of being bound to a someone financially, unable to escape. So that I can turn to my family in my weakness instead of turning to the people who are contributing to it. I have an appointment with my psych today who hopefully will help me to have more stability because after realizing how I’ve been thinking and how I am still switching between two worlds, completely losing my ability to merge both pieces, I need more help.

I have to start accepting that my life, the people in it, my activities, even my future, is going to look a lot different than I had once imagined.

I’m never going to “get over being bipolar”. If I am going to do more then just survive, I need to create a plan to protect myself, from myself. I need to adapt. I need to change.

I’m tired of just existing. I need to learn how to support myself. I need to learn how to advocate for myself. I need to learn how to become the person I could actually be without being so debilitated by my own mind.

Kanye said that being bipolar makes him a superhero. As much as I try not to assume about people’s motives or mental states, I think its safe to assume he had those thoughts during a manic episode. I used to feel like I was a superhero, until the lows started to become my everyday life. Now I feel like more times than not, I’m actually the villain, or maybe just cursed. But if I could keep a part of each side when I switch over, if I could have access to both worlds, I won’t have superpowers, but maybe a life with more stability than suffering is possible.

That’s all I have ever wanted anyway.