From the bottom…

Most people when telling a story would begin by “taking it from the top.”  My story is different. My story starts at the bottom.  The place where people try to stay away from. That place where you look around at your life and can quickly say that this is not where or who or what I want to be. Past the “trying to make it work” and “barely hanging on.”

It’s a dark place down here. Often finding myself alone in a house full of people who society says I should love and cherish, when all I feel is anger and resentment. My child whom I love and adore getting sucked into my vortex of negativity.  Insert judgmental parenting comments here…  Make sure they are well thought out and unique as we wouldn’t want a mediocre call out.  I will take your suggestions as long as you borrow my shoes.

In the past 5 years I have gotten married, started getting abused along with my child, developed a self-injury habit, started  family therapy, separated, did a residential program at a mental health hospital, was diagnosed as Bipolar, divorced, spent a week in a mental health facility, transitioned to individual therapy along with getting my child therapy, did DBT therapy, watched my child suffer from self-injury and spend 2 separate weeks in a mental health facility for suicidal ideations, had my car repossessed, had my house I had owned for 7 years foreclosed on, moved in to my parents house that was already full of people, diagnosed with several other health issues in this time, became unemployed, and within the past month my car was totaled when someone hit me.

So here I am, starting from the bottom.

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2 thoughts on “From the bottom…

  1. To say *hugs* seems inadequate.
    I also have a diagnosis of Bipolar and had to move back in with my parents (due to mental and physical health difficulties) so I know some of what you’re dealing with. I’m always here if you want to talk.

    Like

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