Thursday, 16 July 2015

DAY 25


Today is Wednesday and it has been a long day indeed.

Me and my boyfriend have officially been together for 2 years now, which to some people is a long time - for me it doesn't seem that long. Thinking about what I've been through, what we’ve been through, it's chaotic and I find it inconceivable that we have passed through effectively the worst storm. I’m going to take a little longer writing up this piece tonight, as I feel it’s an important milestone for me and my life with my partner.

Last year, I wrote a blog post on my private relationship with my boyfriend. I’ve never been one to be like ‘HAPPY 2 YEARS TO MY BF’ on Facebook to contest how many ‘likes’ I get. To me, I’ve been there and done that. I’ve loved boys who didn’t love me, I’ve been in relationships that crashed and could not be resuscitated. I’ve been the love torn girl who the crowd pointed and laughed at, I was a clown.

Not to make myself seem resentful, when I see those social media declarations – I see clowns. I feel an imposing torrential post on facebook does not measure to the quiet whispers in bed or the ‘I love you’ when you say goodbye at the train station. When you’re fatally ill, and you don’t know if the last kiss is your last. I’ve had so much love within me that I’ve harbored, because my illness flooded me and convinced me nothing was ever as wonderful as it seemed.

My illness puts an anchor on my relationship. When my boyfriend and I live together, he is my principle carer. He takes on a position with me. He will be the man who elects - if it has became too much – to send me to hospital, or to walk away. Of course I am sure in my choice of mate, but it is not pleasant knowing you need to trust your complete sense of being with someone.

If you have bipolar disorder and you struggle within relationships, I certainly understand you. I’ve learned a lot about love from past experiences, since I’ve been mentally assessed – I’ve learned a lot about myself. As I get older – I feel I’m becoming more and more introverted. I used to be so overwhelming, a complete cyclone of compassion – and now I feel so small; I can’t communicate myself suitably. I would doubt my relationship, when the issue was not my romantic situation – the issue was within myself.

My life is not one-dimensional, I can’t ‘just’ move out. My home needs vetted by my medical team first and then we have to create action plans for my boyfriend. I can’t ‘just’ get pregnant, in ignorance to the fact I have fertility and womb issues, if I accidentally get pregnant whilst on my medication – my child will be at massive risk of developing heart issues, being premature and seriously disabled. Marriage? That’s a whole moral dilemma. What kind of woman would I be if I rooted my loved one to me for the certain future – when I don’t even know what kind of person I am?

This all may come across very negative and I apologise. I am just being honest, and I don’t want your sympathy either – this is my reality and oddly I’m okay with that.

I regret my past, but now that I know there is an illness behind my indescribable actions, I can start to feel peace. I saw an article on daily mail the other day about a woman who contacted her ex-lovers and asked what they truly thought of her. So I contacted mine last night.

My ex boyfriend commented:

“You were actually a pretty amazing girlfriend.You were kind and thoughtful.I had a brilliant time going out with you! Yeah we had our ups and downs but overall you being my girlfriend was a brilliant experience! Best of all you gave me such a big confidence boost and I thank you so much for that!”


It seems I was a good person in my past relationship (If I contacted my other ex there would’ve been a much more bitter response!). I can live in peace with my past, I will always have an ounce of regret but I’m surviving. I think the best thing is just not to give a damn, because it’s over.

I live a life of peace, because the weathers of my mind are so barbaric. My 17-year-old niece has a baby, my 19-year-old nephew is now engaged – and me, I’m surviving. Me and my boyfriend may never have children, we may never make it to an altar but I’m okay with that.

I live for the moments when we lie in bed watching ‘Here Comes Honey Boo Boo’, or when I sleep and he plays loud games and I’m cool with that because it makes me feel safe just hearing him there. There is a lot that I have accomplished in terms of career and education, I’m lucky to be mildly attractive too. I’m lucky to have an awesome family and a bunch of friends. My normality might be different from yours and I might not progress in a family way, I may just have a bunch of animals; but to me that sounds ideal.

Life would not be very fun if we all accomplished the same tedious, lackluster things. I won’t ever worry about what is beyond me, because I’m happy to be existing. Last year, if my depression was not caught in time – I’d be dead. I made a suicide plan, I wrote letters and I was almost there before medics intervened. That was my illness, not me.

For now, I’m going to enjoy existing and I’m going to enjoy every second I have with those I love.

I love being alive.

P.S. Still pissed that Honey Boo-Boo got cancelled.



Sidenote: Happy 2 Years Kyle
 "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard" - Winnie The Pooh