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 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.
My body, mind, and soul feel the need to breathe deep, focus on some self care, and create new things.
I had a nervous breakdown a couple of weeks ago that led me to a deep, dark place that scared me. I understand why people advise not to write publicly about things you've not yet healed from. Reliving these situations has left me feeling raw and exposed. While I plan to continue sharing, I am going to have to be careful how I go about it.
This disorder is debilitating. It's too high speed plummeting to deep despairing pits of darkness. It's ugly. It's mean. It's dangerous.