Tomorrow I turn 29.

I have nothing together.

The only victory I have to celebrate is that I still exist.

My mental health rules the roost and it’s a bastard.

I have no money, no property and no health.

I am scared of going outside so I don’t run – if I make it outside for something I have to do for say work then it is a major victory.

I am medicated to my eyeballs.

I feel very little I just exist.

Someone asked me what my dreams are.

I don’t dream anymore.

I exist.

That is all.

Life like this is miserable.

I don’t feel often.

I miss feeling.

I miss the ups and downs and all the joy that comes from the emotions that ruled me.

I want to have dreams again. I don’t want to consider surviving a major achievement.

I spent most of my day in a major panic attack because I had to get myself into town and be normal for a few hours.

I then spent my evening de-briefing my mind because I know I have to see people all weekend and the thought of that is tiring.

Previous birthdays are full of joy and friends and memories. Each birthday I take it upon myself to think about the past year and the coming next year.

Where will I be? Where have I been?

The only successful thing I have is my relationship and even that I feel like a constant drain.  I am not an equal partner. I am a sick person.  Someone who needs looking after.

I miss who I used to be and I hope that I get to see a professional soon.

Bipolar at 28 soon to be 29 is crushing me.

The only thing I know is that I am here thanks to sheer determination to fight my demons but even that gets slowly eroded away.

I have no idea where I will be in a years’ time.  I would like to hope it’s a lot further along than where I am now.  I would like to think that I can think of some achievements other than existing.

Currently I feel like I contribute nothing to life and society.

But I guess it’s my birthday eve so things could always improve from tomorrow.

Happy Birthday me.