There is a common phrase: It's not the fall that kills you-- it's the sudden stop at the end. I can't help but think, for bipolar anyways, "What if it really is the fall that kills you?"

I'm immobile. My mood improves and worsens but always returns to the mildly depressed baseline. I've been told numerous times the things that I need to do to get and stay well: medication, therapy, diet, exercise, socialization, a sense of mastery (to use a psychological phrase.) I believe the first part, most of the time anyway, that I will get well if I take care of myself or at least the odds are in my favour. All of my past depressive episodes I have recovered from, so I am likely to recover from this one as well. That I can stay well is what I have problems believing. Every past depressive episode may have ended, but there has always been another.

I'm immobile. I haven't been able to maintain medication use, fully benefit from therapy, eat 3 times a day (even one time a day is sometimes a challenge), exercise regularly, contact my friends and family to socialize. As for the sense of mastery, I suppose it depends on the area of my life. I think the only think that is preventing me from doing the things I need to do to get and stay well is-- me. I'm afraid to get well, not because I don't enjoy being well, but because I don't know how many times I can bear to loose it again. I afraid that one day the fall will be enough of a trigger to cause my suicide.