I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder over ten years ago. At the time, I wasn’t aware of any genetic component as I was an adopted child. Within my adopted family, there was a high incidence of alcoholism on my maternal mothers side, with most of her siblings having alcohol difficulties whilst her own mother and two of her siblings had suffered or would go on to suffer from depression. There was no one who had Bipolar Disorder.
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When I was a child, I always imagined myself living in the country when I was an adult. Living off the grid in a small cottage in the woods, completely self-sustainable surrounded by beautiful rolling hills and lush green fields and keeping a goat for company.
As I recall somewhat hazily, nine months ago I decided to take a break from writing. Initially it was only going to be for a few short months. Just enough time to steady my increasingly chaotic moods, have some much needed time to myself and to enjoy more of my now habitual and delightful long ponderings - preferably whilst drinking a nice hot cups of tea and trying to muster some self control over the heavenly packet of biscuits, that were coyly looking at me, with their mesmerizing eyes.
Can I tell you a secret?
Do you promise that you will not tell?
I don't want to be stable!