struggling

As much as I don't want to admit it, I am struggling. I want to be fine, to prove to people that I am a different person. I know that if I am the person I was last year, the few friends I have left will turn on me. Believe it or not, people don't like downers. As much as I need a support group, as much as I need friends who will love and understand, I don't feel like I have anyone. Because everytime I trust I end up pushing the friend away with my so called negativity. People expect me to be fine. So that's what I'm trying to be.

But unfortunately it's not working. Guess what? I'm bipolar....and as much as I hate it, this is most likely going to be something I battle with the rest of my life. That means, if you want to be my friend, you have to be willing to be there during the ups, and the downs. I don't want to be down anymore than you want me to be, but sometimes no matter how hard I try to fight it, my mood drops and there really isn't much I can do but wait it out.

So I sit at my computer, playing my depression music and crying my eyes out. I haven't cut in over two hundred days. You'd think it'd get easier, but I still find it a constant battle not to give in every time I get down, or stressed, or in pain.

I'm tired God. I'm tired of fighting. I'm not strong enough to do this. My pain is getting worse again, my mood is crashing, I'm stressed and tired, I've had a headache every day for over a month now, and I'm just miserable. I can't handle school, I'm tired of facing my phobias, and I'm just overall tired of life. Tired of a dysfunctional family, tired of pain. TIRED. I want to let go so bad. But then I get told think about what it'll do to people. Think about family and friends. And then this part of my mind goes, screw them. Why should I have to hang on for people who walk away from me every time I get down?

You know what's funny. No one cares when you are manic. When you are in the highs people just think you are hyper and fun. In many ways it is miserable...but nobody worries and nobody cares. But god forbid you go to the other end of the spectrum, and suddenly not only do people get really concerned, but they get turned off. They don't want to be around you anymore. Just something I've noticed...and find kind of ironic. Because both ends are part of the same illness. And seriously...I am still me. That doesn't change. Rebecca is always still in here someplace. So why can't you care enough to stay around?