That's a little dramatic, but, that's me.

I guess I'll allways be a daughter, even though my Dad is dying and my mother is sick, and falling apart.

I guess I'll allways be a mother. Even though I have decided to give over custody of my children to thier father.

I guess people will allways tell me that I still have worth, that sharing my thoughts, feelings and compassion can help others.

But I have a hard time living with myself. The pain, both physical and mental, has worn me down. My confliced thoughts don't allow me to know myself anymore. Who I am? A 100 year old woman, born 43 years ago. All things positive when manic. All things negative when depressed.
They say we can't let ourselves define us by our disease But there is nothing left but the disease. The person I was, or wanted to be is possesed. My original personality has been swallowed up, locked away forever in the back of my mind, screaming for escape, begging for release from the torture. You know the torchure. I hear it in your posts, I can feel the pain eminating from your words.
I never go to the inspirational sites, the self help, the "you can do it" type of posts. I stay away from them because it's gone too far for me. They enrage me.
I saw my GP today, I have multiple cronic diseases that cause me to be in constant pain. But, when I saw him, I was a little manic, not off my rocker, just, more energetic than ussual, I was able to talk and communicate. He's not used to seeing that, he's used toa blob of pain sitting before him, with a list physical problems to adress, talking only when absolutly neccesary. I needed a refill on a pain med, he wouldn't, said it makes bipolar people manic, if thier meds aren't edjusted right.
Why the hell is it alright to be in an absolute depression? But being manic is unacceptable? I have to wait to go back on meds, that will keep me locked in depression and numbness before my pain issues can be dealt with. Now I know, there's probably a lot of people that would say pain meds are too evil anyway, you don't need them. But at 43 years old, I cant walk for 5 min., I can't empty my dishwasher, I can't go downstairs to do kittly titter or laundry. I can't shave my legs, or cut my toenails. I can't sit in a chair and then stand up. And I have no one to help me anymore. I'm considering something, I never thought I could, going into some sort of facility. Permanantly. What I want is to be able to go to the pain clinic 2 hours away, every day, what I want is to have a husband and feel love again, what I want is someone to help me.
I don't "believe" in suicide, just because I'v caused enough pain in the lives of my parents and children. I won't do that, but I can't help feeling that there's not enough life left in me to make it much farther.