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The blessing of my BP is memory loss. I experience depression and mania first hand. I am ware of everything I do, my suffering and the like. But I know in a week or less it's all a blur and the detail is dissolved.
I have learned to trust in transition. In the temporary nature of the illness' cycles. I do resent them at times, or rather people around me who don't experience the same and have lives. But at the same time, I feel things few people feel and feel so deeply.
Feeling done in myself atm. Stress mostly. Big hugs.
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I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone. ~ Charles Bukowski
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