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A Journey of Bipolar Depression. Part 1: The Fall

By Nikita grantPublished 7 years ago 3 min read
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The highs and lows who controls the balance, me or my disease. 

There are 3 voices in my head; the dark emptiness, the hopeful euphoria, and mine. Sometimes we can work together, but most times we are trying to destroy one another. The emptiness is only satisfied when I'm triggered and on the verge of suicide or in a constant lust for death and destruction. The hopeful euphoria is never satisfied always wanting more, never feeling fulfilled. She constantly searches for opportunities to exploit, control, or manipulate others for my "benefit." As for me, I'm driven by these two forces. Only seeking to find some sort of balance between my highs and lows; focusing on achieving my personal goals, dreams, and the person I aspire to be.

I have been this way for awhile, being able to cope only by isolating and closing of my emotions and placing walls all around. It's easier not to feel at all instead of feeling everything. Going numb to stop the pain, but cutting off the hope of ever feeling normal. I have an inferiority complex which triggers my depressive thoughts. I could be putting 110% of effort into my work, which I'm hopelessly passionate about. Then be criticized for a small unimportant aspect, and suddenly feel insulted:

  1. They never appreciated all my hard effort to accomplish this great feat.
  2. Nothing I ever do is good enough for anyone.
  3. Is there something wrong with me that every time I do something its always below standards?
  4. How dare they undermine my hard work; who are they to pass judgment, they must get pleasure putting someone else down.

This is how my depression begins, then anything and everything will push me further down. Till I hit the very bottom, and now climbing out isn't an option. "Why should I climb out, when it's just going to happen again? Might as well die in this hole." "Just end it, you will be happier." No more living up to yours and everyone else's expectations. No more stress and anxiety of utter failure. But you have to understand the other consequences, no chance for things to get better. You will never feel love, happiness, or accomplishment ("not like you know what that feels like anyway"). Then the thoughts consume me ways to end my existence:

Slit your wrist when you're drunk, and bleed out in the tub.

Electrocute yourself in the bathtub.

Jump out the car while going unsafe speeds on the freeway.

Overdose on your mother's surgery meds.

No one will miss you because you're a disappointment and a failure. You would be lifting a burden off the ones that love you (yes, they will act like they miss you at your funeral. "That's even if they care enough to have one." But they will live their lives like you never existed soon enough).

Sometimes I break down and cry myself to sleep, coming closer to death every day. I practically taste my blood in my mouth. I'm sick of it all and I'm ready, to accept my consequences. But I'm not I'm a failure at everything even attempting death. So I force myself to this cross road; I'm tired of feeling like this 85 percent of the time. What can I do? Get help, because I can't face my demons alone. Who would help me I'm pathetic and they probably won't even care. The pros out weigh the cons, because I know I won't be able to live like this for too much longer, and my window of hope is closing fast.

bipolar
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About the Creator

Nikita grant

just a soul searching for purpose, and place to belong.

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