Last week, my therapist told me that I’m in recovery. In my world, that means this is as good as it gets. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m mostly happy with where I’m at. What I’m not happy with I can’t change. The more it settles in that I’m okay, the bigger the fear that I will cycle out of this. So I decided to write myself a letter to read if that happens again. When writing this, I realized that my biggest fear is that I will be suicidal again. I can work through almost everything else, but I don’t know if I could work through that.
Dear Future Self,
You will be okay. Even if it gets dark again. You will be okay. Since your reading this, maybe things got dark again. But it will be okay. It will get better. Just hold on.
How do I know this? Because I’m okay right now as I write this. I wasn’t okay for the past two years, but I’m okay now. Sara used those magic words. “I think we can call this your recovery phase.” You’ve been here. You can get here again.
That’s probably not enough to convince you that it will get better. I know you. You can be pretty damn cynical when you want to be. It’s not hard to be when you get symptomatic….when you get sick.
You may be hating yourself right now…hating bipolar. Wondering what the hell you did to make this happen. Wondering what would be the quickest way out.
I know, easier said than done. But there are lots of things that can be done to make you feel better. There are lots of things that you can do to try and make it better.
Take a deep breath. You have options.
Call your therapist. It might not be the same one you have right now, but that’s okay too. Things change. Change doesn’t mean hopeless. Don’t have a therapist right now? Call a crisis line.
Call your family. Ask your mom to come stay with you. I hope to God that your symptoms haven’t made you think they hate you again. They don’t. They really, really don’t. Trust me. Call them.
Go be with people. Don’t want to talk to people? Go walk around a store.
Get rid of whatever you want to off yourself with. I know. It’s hard. Maybe you need someone to help you do that. That’s okay. Again, call your mom. She’ll help you.
Maybe this isn’t enough. Maybe your brain is telling you that you don’t have any other option. Maybe its that bad. Go to the hospital. Call your mom. Can’t call? Text her. Go to a public place.
You can get through this.
You are worth it.