A life filled, not with events but with tears of sadness and fantastic ecstasy. A kettle of emotions in which I suffer, overcome and survive.

In order to be alive, we must live with emotion; because without emotion we're only existing.

I look inwards and realize what Bipolar means to me, instead of focusing on what others claim it should mean. I believe this is the only way to truly accept my illness and myself.

كان علىّ أن أحاول أن أوفق بين فكرتي عن نفسي كإنسانة تتكلم بهدوء ومنضبطة تماما, إنسانة على الأقل حساسة عموما لأمزجة ومشاعر الآخرين.. وبين امرأة ساخطة ومجنونة تماما وفاقدة لكل منافذ السيطرة على النفس والتفكير العقلاني

The doctor’s words made me understand what happened to me was a dark, evil, and shameful secret, and by association I too was dark, evil, and shameful. While it may not have been their intention, this was the message my clouded mind received. To escape the confines of the hospital, I once again disassociated myself from my emotions and numbed myself to the pain ravaging my body and mind. I acted as if nothing was wrong and went back to performing the necessary motions to get me from one day to the next. I existed but I did not live.

I compare myself with my former self, not with others. Not only that, I tend to compare my current self with the best I have been, which is when I have been midly manic. When I am my present "normal" self, I am far removed from when I have been my liveliest, most productive, most intense, most outgoing and effervescent. In short, for myself, I am a hard act to follow.