So, me and my dad were having a nice friendly chat sitting cross legged on my bedroom floor and in the end he goes, "By the way, try to reach a point where you won't need medication anymore, if that is possible."

He didn't mean it in an unpleasant way. He really didn't. But I felt so overwhelmed all of a sudden. I burst into tears the moment he left my room. I was med-free for over a year until a few months ago I had a major breakdown and had to start seeing a pdoc again. I don't like being meantally ill. I don't like taking meds. It was never my choice. It's not about being weak or strong. Or is it? I don't know. I think that's the problem with mental illness. Someone once told me that my illness wasn't such a terrible one after all and she knew people who were literally grappling with cancer. I know cancer is worse but mental illness is tough. Sometimes you have difficulty telling the illness apart from what is actually YOU and that is tough. Having to blame yourself for what isn't your fault at all. Or blaming something on the f***ing monster inside you only to feel guilty all the time and wondering if you're just making excuses for your inadequecy. My parents were really disappointed when I told them I needed to see a psychiatrist and be on medication again. It was like I had let them down. They try not to show it. They keep saying that bipolar is an illness like any other and I should take my medication as long as its necessary and they mean it. But they were really disappointed all the same. And I hate them for it. And I hate myself for doing this to them.