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Alora

My name is Alora and I was diagnosed with rapid cycling Bipolar I Disorder back in 2008. While learning to deal with the disorder has been a challenge, it has given her me a chance to grow in ways most people can’t. I’ve found ways to use the mania to my advantage and as a result have gone back to school and have finally been able to get my dream of being a writer to become a reality. I know each day is going to be unpredictable, but I am grateful that I have the love and support of my boyfriend, Ted, and his son, to help get me through my worst days.

Therapy helps. I never thought I would say this, but it does. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I back in 2008 and up until today I have avoided my therapist like the plague. If I’m lucky, I make time to see my doctor to get a refill, but if not, oh well. I’ll go a few months without meds, spiral out of control, hit rock bottom, and come crawling back. I will not however show up for therapy. Until today.

I am in an amazing relationship with a man who loves me despite the constant roller coaster of emotions. We have a home together, I adore his nine year old son to no end, and we’re perfect. The only blemish in an otherwise flawless relationship is his step daughter…ex step daughter that is. He’s divorced, but chooses to remain in her life since he is the only dad she has ever known; and she has perfected the art of making my anxiety go through the roof. We had her over the past two days and I went through more Ativan in 48 hours than I do in a normal week. 

That brings me back to my original point; therapy helps. Even if you feel like your meds are stabilizing you and you have finally reached a place of normalcy in the normal chaos of your life, nothing can last forever. The meds may mask the feelings, but without really dealing with them, they won’t do their job. You need to have that one person you can talk to and really let it all out. I can talk to my boyfriend about anything, but not about how his step daughters existence in my life is enough to make me want to go back to cutting (something I’m happy to say I haven’t done in over a year). If I can’t talk to him, the emotions will just get stronger and that is why today I finally realized I needed to call my therapist. I know she will be the sounding board I need to work through the stress this major life sucking inconvenience is causing. 

Don’t do what I did. I waited almost six months of letting the stress rip me apart before I finally realized the medication wouldn’t make the problem go away. Even something that seems little and inconvenient can eventually turn into a trigger. I know if I didn’t talk to someone soon I was headed into a dark, crushing depression that I couldn’t afford. She isn’t worth that, nothing is. Call your therapist and make an appointment.

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