I wrote this, along with several other posts, on Monday, June 18, while in what I would discover was the worst mania I have ever experienced. My anxiety was very high, I was irritable, hadn’t slept enough for days, was making irrational decisions, and had a hard time concentrating. I found writing was the only thing that kept me focused.
Writing has been, and remains, my preferred method of communication.
As for the mania? It’s still hanging out.
Dear Anxiety, Bi Polar, and looming PPD.
I am attempting to understand the hold that you have over me. Over my happiness, the time I spend with my family, whether I am fully present with friends, at work, and with my daughter and soon to be husband.
I have sought help, consulted literature, spoken to survivors, and fully believed that I was cured. I have accepted medication, completed work books, advocated, and spread awareness through sharing my story.
Through sleepless nights and red swollen eyes I have begged you to leave me alone, to disappear, but you persist, circling me like a shark. You nip at my heels when I am happy, reminding me you’re always close, and take huge chunks of my light when I least expect it, pulling me into your depths.
This letter is to formally tell you I’ve had enough.
I’m exhausted. I’m tired of fighting you and beginning to get irritated.
You are annoying.
You’re a snarky whore that I no longer want in my life.
Gather your things, pack your bags, and find the door.
This relationship is poison and it is OVER.