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.
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.