Living with bipolar disorder. Working through trauma. This is my story.
I asked again to receive my word for the year. After a moment of darkness laced with colors, I saw the outline of a sparkling purple butterfly. This faded as it flew away. Then, the darkness opened up to a wolf standing on the edge of a cliff, mouth open, panting, looking around at the scenery of a desert. This then faded, and it got dark. Just completely black.
Ever have one of those mornings when everything that can go wrong, does go wrong? So, I'm using a filter to help me force a smile, cause damn! This morning kicked my ass. But I'm thinking it was to get my attention.
In previous relationships, that was exactly what I was taught. I wasn't good enough. I had to earn respect. I had to perform to be loved. I had to make the other person happy through what I could do for them. Otherwise, I was worthless and unworthy.
What has happened to me? I used to be a social butterfly, but after my emotional/mental breakdown last fall, I've become nearly reclusive.
Bipolar depression is especially crippling, and I have had a history of being bedridden anywhere from a few days to a few weeks because of it... This alongside instability, irritability due to sensory overstimulation, memory problems and anxiety have cost me more jobs than I care to count.
I almost cried in the middle of the store as my little girl self related to the stories being shared. I started to understand the depth of the longing within me. I can only begin healing by acknowledging the experiences and validating the emotions of my childhood. The only way I can grow and heal as an adult is to first connect with and love the little girl in me.
I have let fear take control of me. At one point I thought I was fearless, but somehow, I let it creep and settle in and make itself at home within me. I’m hoping—no, I know—as I continue healing, I will become fearless once again.
Amanda Jewel Warren 