So the support groups are gone. Over with and forgotten. With a tiny bit of a scar from approximately 24 hours of wasted lifetime, but who’s counting. And I’m so relieved because I found a new clinic. I made it my mission to find the right care for me this time, and did some extensive research. And I came across this clinic called Brooklyn Minds. The name alone had my heart rate going because you know I just gots to like everything Brooklyn. It’s a private clinic and the price tags had me re-think a thing or two, but then I figured if I’m not stable (the term I learned to call myself now) then I really don’t have anything else. So I went. And it was worth every penny. I’d probably leave tip if it wasn’t awkward. My new doctor is super knowledgeable and attentive. Like he listened to all my bitching and moaning, and then gave scientific name placements as related to my condition. Meaning everything I experienced was either in due or related to my Bipolar condition. And it felt like a relief, and like someone nailed my coffin shut. For he gave me two news: good is that Bipolar people are statistically smarter than an average person, bad being is this condition is not treatable. And this last bit was very sobering. I don’t think anyone has ever been so upfront with me. For he literally said forget being cured, it will never be the case, think learning to manage. And then he gave gazillion tips, and tools, BUT that phrase stuck with me.
So this weekend I mostly spent home with my lovely significant other. Whom I have. And who’s been with me through all three hospitalizations. And for whom I’ll make a shrine out of clay and empty beer bottles. And who when asked ‘why do you love me, I’m crazy’ answered ‘you’re my crazy’. Yeah. I still felt incredibly sad. It’s like being told you’re sick with terminal brain cancer, but very super fucking lazy one that will eat at your brain suuuuper slow, while you struggle to pay your medical bills. So I cried on Saturday for the first time in a long while. And it could be because I started to regain my feelings again. You see, I was released from the hospital on a very heave sedative and was functioning like a robot. Quote from my new doctor, and savior who lowered my dosage.
Point being, mental illness is a bitch and a lifelong sentence. On those suffering for it, and people who surround them. Another point is it’s not a joke, but I will make as many jokes as possible about it. Mostly because statistically speaking my IQ is higher than yours. Science has spoken. Another point, pets are awesome. This is just a shout out to my cat. Also, if you find yourself incredibly drawn to them, maybe get yourself checked out? I have a good clinic I can recommend.
More than anything, this is probably me coming to terms with my diagnosis. In a very public way. And also a chance to raise awareness. I’m like Sarah McLachlan, only instead of dying dogs I represented a bunch of lunatics. And lunatics can be super weird, but they have their uses. I haven’t come up with an exact list but maybe we can create one that we all agree upon. Maybe I’ll found a village of lunatics that just live in the farm and grow their own crops. Oh wait, I think they have those already.
Anywho. I think I’ll just add a donation page soon. Otherwise, what’s the point of having an illness if you can’t monetize on it. Just thinking positive here. Cheerios.