Emails

From now on no more chick flicks. I’m going blood and guts all the way. Except I have a roadblock and his name is David. He loves romance movies. He sees himself as the male lead character and me as the female lead. My husband cried at the end of the movie ‘The Notebook’! He identified with the husband and wife; to him they were him and me. What I know for sure is that if I should get dementia, move into a care home, David will park himself there, and try everyday to make me remember who I am and that we were madly in love. His favorite part was when the characters died in each other’s arms. (David was positive that the woman in the movie knew who her husband was when they died together. Awww...)

I’m revising my chick flick criteria. I’m not going to watch any life long friendship movies. I’m going to burn my copy of ‘Beaches’ as soon as I’m done writing this entry.

As most of you know I’m bipolar, and before I was diagnosed I went through bouts of depression, and highs. I had (the word is HAD) a wonderful friend, which I let go of during a bout of depression. There was no massive fight, or mean words said. I just told her I was too tired to have any friends. We were 25.

Ever since that moment I regretted my words, but I was sick. I would see her face everywhere. I missed her so much, especially as I started to get well. Do not misunderstand me in anyway- I am not making my mental health as an excuse for terminating the friendship; it just played a big part in it. I take full responsibility, and because of that I waited to connect back up with her until I was stable enough to be the kind of friend she deserved.

I sent her an email explaining what had happened, and that I was truly sorry. She sent me one back saying that I was so brave, and beautiful. I sent her an email telling her that I wanted to be her friend again. She sent one back, and her email said, ‘Goodbye.’

I’m not blaming her, she has the right to decide who to befriend, and she decided not to take another chance with our relationship. Fine. Am I hurt? Yes, but not for the reasons I thought I would be.

I’m so mad at being bipolar!! I hold it together. ‘Being bipolar isn’t that bad.’ ‘I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs.’ ‘My family and friends are very understanding.’ ‘My medication keeps me stable.’ ‘Bipolar is just something I have to work through.’ I’m tired of reciting those sentences day-after-day.

Bipolar has taken away my career, my friendships, my trust, other people’s trust in me, and my ability to function at times.

But let’s be fair bipolar has bestowed gifts upon me too, such as: weight gain, medication, free hospital stays, paranoia, low self-esteem because I’m feel like I’m not living up to my potential, and seizers from the bipolar medication, (But don’t fear I control the seizers with more medication.)

We all have our own crosses to bare, our own struggles. I just wanted to get a piece of my old life back. I wanted to get back something that I loved. I know that I have to move forward and focus on the good things I have now. I know that I’m more blessed than most. But damn it, I think I deserve a second chance; I’m not a bad person.

I will never give up on my quest to have a better life. Bipolar may have put a weight on my ankle, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t move forward.

As for my lost friendship there is nothing that I can do other than wish her well. As for my mental well-being there is only one thing that I can do, and that is to keep fighting.

I have to sign off, and start working on David’s notebook. You know, just in case… Oh and put my copy of 'Beaches' on Ebay. Burning it is too harsh.