Tag: lessons

Posted in Managing Mental Health, Mental Health

Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me When I Realised I’m Bipolar

Posted on by Millie :)

When I started having greater mood swings and episodes than the other kids around me, I was about 12. At 15 I was diagnosed with cyclothymia, and at 18 this was changed to Bipolar 1. I use ‘realised’ instead of ‘diagnosed’ because I knew what was going on with me long before diagnosis, and I don’t think diagnosis is the be all and end all. I hold the label of bipolar very dear to me, but through my own definition for what it means in my life. Bipolar disorder is an awful thing, and many people die from it. But through necessity to survive, having bipolar disorder has forced me to expand my view of myself, the world, creativity and more. And for that I am very grateful. 

I was also grateful to realise I was bipolar, but I do know this is not the experience for many people. Regardless of whether you are happy or not, or expected the diagnosis/ realisation, discovering that you have bipolar is a big thing. So here are some things I wish someone had told me/ wish I’d known when I realised I was bipolar. Whether I would have listened to them is a different issue, and the journey to discover them is something I wouldn’t trade for the world. However if you have been recently diagnosed with bipolar I hope maybe this list will help you make sense of it all. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn’t:

  1. Understand that you are the same person as before your diagnosis and any bipolar diagnosis is not a death sentence, it is completely manageable.
  2. You get to define what bipolar means to you. It is your label to claim or not, your language to choose if you use or not.
  3. Connect and learn from others.

I’m not talking just medical doctors, I mean real people with real experience, whether that be through peer support groups (which exist), reading books and biographies, learning about different mental health practices, nature, social media etc.

  1. Define what healing means for you.

This is so important – no one gets to tell you what healing looks like. It may never be the idea of healing society gives (and probably should never be given how the human body actually works even for neurotypicals). Maybe it is creating a life where you have the space to be less productive, or maybe it’s not no depression but shorter depression etc etc. If you define your healing, you will be ok.

  1. For practical things you can start right away:
  • Track your moods (I use the app e-moods)
  • Limit alcohol and drugs 
  • Keep a journal (can help work out thoughts and keep track), or have another self reflective practice
  • Start a gratitude practice 
  • Create routines – sleep in particular is often a very important thing to have routine around for bipolar people, although I am notoriously bad at it 
  • Connect with your body. Exercise is very good, but I also mean on a deeper level of learning how to listen to your body, where tension and trauma is being held and how to release it etc
  1. Research any medications.

Medication is often touted at the main treatment for bipolar disorder and I am not saying that is isn’t life changing for many, because it is, but many of the drugs have different effects and side effects that you may not be fully aware of before starting them, so please take the time to research independently if you can.

And also – you do not have to take medication. If a bipolar person stops or chooses not to take medication they are often seen as very unwell, unrealistic etc. Some are forcibly medicated. I hope to see an end to all forced medication one day. It is not right for everyone and you should be able to make that choice. But obviously please give it serious thought – and never come off medication without consulting doctors first on how to do so because withdrawals can be really damaging. 

It’s not a lot, but it is a start. Take it one day at a time and healing is possible. You are not alone. If you have any other questions please let me know! Sending love and support to you all today xx

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Letter To A Younger Me

Posted on by Millie :)

Hey sweetie, 

I’m writing you this letter because you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. And the thing is, I know you won’t actually read it, you can’t, I can’t actually travel back and give it to you. So there’s no real point in me giving you advice; any advice I do write is, I suppose, more of a reminder for me now – born from the gifts you gave me just by keeping going. Yeah, this letter isn’t really for you. It’s for me now, or us now. To heal a little bit and reflect in a way that doesn’t consume us back to where you are. If that makes any sense? 

I want to comfort you. I want to hug you, hold you tight, and whisper ‘I’ve got you’. Which is something to remember when you feel like the worst person ever, because eventually we’re able to look back and show ourselves compassion. I know it hurts. And I know you feel really lonely, I know. 

I think I’m writing this to you at about age 13, maybe just turned 14. Right as all the mental health stuff really took off, and before you’d gone through enough of it to have any perspective on it. It was all new and you had no reason to think it wouldn’t last forever. But, hey, spoiler alert – it doesn’t last forever. I won’t lie to you, it does get worse. And then maybe worse again. And again. But there’s this magic process you haven’t come across yet, where even though in some ways it gets worse, it never feels quite as bad as that very first time. Because you’re growing and learning and after you survive it once you always know, deep down inside of you, that you’re going to survive it again. And you’re going to learn all these little skills – and big skills! – that help you get through. You’re going to be ok. Maybe not always, but you are going to be ok. 

I would say please don’t drink, but if you’re 13/14 it’s already too late for that. So I’ll say this instead: you know how you always knew, from when you were really little, that you didn’t want to drink? And you were adamant that you never would, and you always thought if you did it wouldn’t end well, but you didn’t know why? Well, that was your gut instinct, and it was a good one. Learn to listen to your gut – it very rarely serves you wrong. So I know you’ve already had a drink, and done some other things, and I know it feels really great right now. I also know I can’t change what happened (or is going to happen, from your perspective). So I’ll say enjoy it while you can. Enjoy it while it’s fun and have those memories that we treasure. The world is a confusing place; it’s a paradox and time is a funny thing – things can be both good and bad. But listen, when it gets too much, know there is hope. Know that this isn’t going to be forever, and you are going to be ok again, I promise. I promise you the madness it’s going to cause is not going to rule your whole life. And I promise you that one day you’ll actually be grateful for it, strange as that may seem. 

But that’s a few years away yet anyhow. For now it might be more relevant to say that food isn’t the enemy and that you are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to exist and feel and show that you feel. I know right now a lot of your time is taken up thinking about food, and actually you don’t even think that’s a problem yet. Well, you’ll figure it out. There’s a lot of cycles and waves in this life, and you’re gonna ride every one of them out. And you’re not going to do it alone. 

In a few months you’re going to meet this amazing person – she’s a bit crazy. I’d like to say thank you for trusting your gut instinct that first day you met her; the one that says ‘this person gets me’. She does. She’s going to help you. And that’s also going to unleash a whole load of other sh*t in your head because once you open the floodgates of emotion, it’s hard to close them. But you’re not going to be alone. Lean into the people who help you, even when it feels uncomfortable and you’re ashamed to do it, because one day you’re going to be able to show them it was worth it. You are going to meet like-minded, supportive people, and make true deep friendships. Loneliness isn’t going to go away completely, I doubt it ever does, but slowly you’re going to learn to make connections and redefine what that means for you. It’s a process we’re still going through – and we’ve come to appreciate it’s actually kind of a wonderful thing that learning is lifelong. You never stop growing. 

I want you to know that I forgive you. I forgive you. All the unforgivable things that make you think there’s no point, the whirlwind of self-destructive hate that spirals out to others – I forgive you for all of it. You are doing the best you can. And one day you’re going to be able to do better. And in 5,10,15 years you’ll be able to do better again! So I not only forgive you, but I thank you for trying so damn hard to keep going when it all seems impossible. 

If I could actually give this letter to you, the one thing I would probably most like to say is that you’re autistic. Surprise! You’re going to find out in about two years and it’s going to make a whole lot of sense and it’s going to change your life. It’s going to be a catalyst in helping you to understand yourself and learn to exist in this world. Because you’re not broken, you’re living in a world that wasn’t built for you. So when in a few months the whole world comes crashing in around you and you can’t be the perfect A* student you built your identity around (don’t worry, it’s actually a blessing to get to rebuild your sense of self and be able to do other things), know that you are allowed to express your needs. You are allowed to be tired and burnt out and unable to carry on at that level without support or understanding. You are allowed to take up space – I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again. 

Ok, what else would you like to know? We’re still obsessed with Carrie Fisher. You were right, we do have a developing mood disorder. Also anxiety, a lot of it. Oh! You’re going to act! You’re going to see your dreams becoming reality and it’s going to feel even better after all this hurt because you’ll understand how precious it really is. You’re actually quite funny, and it wouldn’t hurt you to trust that you can lean into your comedy every now and then. You write a lot, including a lot of poetry (we like poetry now). You went around Europe on your own for 2 months at 17, just like we’d always dreamed! You run a mental health space, have been on a podcast, won an award. We’re still gay. So yeah, you’re ok. You’re not perfect, no one is, so it’s ok to stop chasing that idea of perfection. And you don’t need to do crazy, harmful things to gain other people’s approval and affection. Laughter is the key to making it through rough times – you have to be able to find life funny. Oh and also – not everyone can hear colour?? We were 15 by the time we realised that! 

I love you, always, through all of it. You’ve got this, even when it feels like you don’t. And I’ll be waiting right here for you in a few years, 

Love, 

You.

Posted in Managing Mental Health, Mental Health, positivity

Identity in Mental Illness

Posted on by Millie :)

As an autistic person with mental illnesses sometimes it can be hard to figure out who I am.

If you have diagnoses you might feel like you have to split up parts of yourself and your actions into boxes, like this part of you is autism and that part of you is anxiety, for example.

Or you might feel like your whole identity is your diagnoses.

Even without a diagnosis you might feel like parts of you are defined by the way you feel, split up and separate.

This can make us feel like we have to be ashamed of these parts of ourselves or like we are not really whole. It can be confusing to know who we are and find our identity in the midst of it all.

Then you add in other identity factors like sexuality, gender, and race which in many cases can complicate our mental health and understanding of ourselves even further – especially because it impacts how others see us, and this is even more prevalent for minority identities.

Rather than trying to see ourselves as a selection of different parts and separate ourselves into these parts, maybe we can start to think of it more like colours blended together and filters on the image of who we are.

Like my anxiety is red and it bleeds into my passion for theatre which is blue. They mix to create a purple in the middle, and that’s where stage fright lives. But all the colours are a part of me, blending together to make me who I am.

And my autism is a filter with a yellow tinge and that does affect how I view and interact with the whole world, but it isn’t my whole identity, nor is it separate to every other part of me. They all work together in different ways to make me who I am.

At the end of the day, you don’t have to have everything figured out about your life and who you are. No one does. It’s a journey and an ongoing process which can be really scary to think about. But it’s actually pretty amazing, all these colours that make up the rainbow of you, changing and growing each day. Remember – no one but you gets to define who you are; your identity is personal and you don’t owe it to anyone else, nor do you need to define who you are! 

But you are wonderfully unique, allowed to take up space, and your rainbow is so much more than you could ever imagine.

Posted in Advocacy, autism, Personal Growth

Autism is My Superpower

Posted on by Millie :)

I’m autistic. Having autism in a neurotypical world is not easy because generally the world isn’t built for us and proves to be confusing, but for anyone struggling with their diagnosis/ symptoms (and any neurotypicals unclear on the individual nature of autism) I want to make it clear that having autism isn’t a defect. Nor is it a mental illness. In fact, it can be a bonus in many situations, and when accommodated to autistic people can provide new perspectives and skills to the benefit of others. I, for one, like to think that my autism is my superpower, and this is my personal experience:

I learnt to ‘mask’ my autism – consciously learning how to act and react from other people’s behaviour; having to put effort into learning social rules that came naturally to others. Masking can be exhausting, so I know it’s essential that I take breaks and find time for myself, but like a superhero in a costume, it can also be powerful. How? Because my passion is theatre, and when I become the character I act out on stage, I am easily able to slip myself into their shoes – I know how they would behave and why. It comes effortless to me. The misconception is that autistic people are like robots and can only slot into certain careers. In reality we are varied like everyone else, and our uniqueness is incredible. We exist in every identity there is: every race, every gender, every sexuality, as parents and children. Our variety is often overlooked.

My increased sensory input is a key feature of my superpower. I observe more, hear more, taste more. This translates to a benefit in so many situations. You don’t know your train time? Don’t worry, I glanced at the board quickly and noticed it. You’re lost and don’t know the way back? Don’t worry, I spotted landmarks along the way, I know where we’re going. You’re trying to remember where you put your glasses? Never fear, I spotted them. And if we’re thinking about sound and music, my greater sensory input comes to my aid once again – that along with my ability to spot patterns as part of my autism, and my synaesthesia (which is far more prevalent among autistic people than the general population). When I hear a piece of music, it is alive to me. It is full of colour, I hear every layer of the rich instruments, and I can see the patterns the notes are forming. If I want to then play that piece on piano, I need only translate the pattern onto the keys – give me a bit of time and I can paint the picture I hear all by myself. This is my superpower. 

Not to mention the fact that I am quite simply neurodivergent. I think experience the world in a way that is different to ‘the norm’, or rather the majority. Why is this a feature of my superpower? Because I can come up with new ideas and perspectives that may have been overlooked or not thought of at all. In certain situations this can become the way I overcome challenges or help others to do so; in the right combination my divergent thinking could be innovative. Us autistic people have a place in this society, no matter where our traits lie on the spectrum, and if we are accommodated we may even be able to offer solutions, certainly valuable contributions at the least. 

Like a superhero may have an emblem, sign, or symbol, I have my stims. By stims I mean self stimulatory behaviour. Why is this so amazing? Well, it indicates to me how I am feeling (different stims, like tapping my fingers on my palm or twirling my ankle, correspond to different moods). Not only this, but should I start to feel an uncomfortable emotion, stimming freely can help calm me down. There’s a lot of people out there that don’t have something so simple in their toolbox, so this is powerful to me. It’s also such a pure form of expression, and can even help me release my creativity, tapping into my flow. Furthermore, my stims evolve over time – hitting my head morphed into covering my head and now I need only put on a hat to feel at home. How awesome is that? 

This barely scratches the surface of my positive autistic experience, but I hope it has enlightened you. Autism is not a bad thing – quite the opposite. And the beautiful part of it is that no one autistic person’s experience is the same as another. We have a place in this world, and we’re not going anywhere, so the more that neurotypicals begin to understand and help us meet our needs, the more we can give.

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Letter to Anyone With Disordered Eating

Posted on by Millie :)

Dear you,

I’ll start by saying hello and that I care, in case no one has said that to you today. Where you are right now, I’ve been there. Maybe not physically, but in some way mentally, and certainly in empathy with you. Some days you’ve probably told yourself you’re not struggling, it’s not hard, it’s worth it – I know I did. And deep down I also know that you know it’s not. It never will be. So here’s my letter to you. Not to say stop or that the pain goes away overnight, just to speak to you as someone who cares, and let you be.

You may think this is all about ‘skinny’; that this is all about achieving the version of yourself that you ‘should’ be. You might think you’re in control. It feels good to be in control right? To know your goals, your focus for the day or the month. I get that. The problem is that in the end, you’re not. And, wow, that is painful to realise. It crushed me when I did. It brought back the struggle of every step I’d been through. But it was necessary. In the end it controls you – whether that is your thoughts or this system telling you that you will never be enough until you fit into that dress, it controls you. And all of a sudden what you were fighting for becomes the thing you are fighting to get away from. In a way, if you really look, you can see this all along. I don’t want you to feel that terror or that hurt, but I want you to know you are not alone in that and the sooner you can get away from it the better.

The good news is that you can. I’m not forcing you to – I’m not another voice telling you to eat more or eat less or do this or that because they can be annoying right? And they can fuel us, I know they did for me. I lived for the finger on my spine telling me how skinny I’d gotten; I lived for the voice telling me how healthy I looked, thinking I’d failed. You’ve never failed. There’s never anything you should be. All I want to do is remind you of your power and your strength because my goodness have you got a lot of it. Think I’m wrong? Well let’s have a look at it, logically – maybe you’ve been restricting for months, purging for years, feeling unworthy for what seems like a lifetime, binging every night? That takes effort. That is blood and sweat and tears, often literally. But the effort it took just to put into that system shows you just how much power you have in you to reverse it. That strength can be turned around to go the other way and to learn, or relearn perhaps, that you are enough just the way you are. What makes you who you are is not your body.

Words like that seem futile though sometimes, don’t they? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t love my body. Most people don’t love their bodies, at least not everyday. But what I do have now is a deep appreciation for how incredible the inner workings of my body are. They’re insane! And most days – I have acceptance. That’s all I need. Acceptance that this food fuels my brain, and that I am enough in this moment. Just enough. Not to say I don’t still struggle, because I do, I really do, but I look back on the pain I was in and I wonder how I ever survived. I didn’t even realise it at the time. It took someone reaching out and telling me they’d been there too for me to even comprehend the idea that this wasn’t healthy for me to be under such mental stress, let alone physical. You are not alone.

Most likely you know all the issues that await if you head down this road further, so I’m not here to preach that to you, but to give you hope of a life outside of this. Of an acceptance and tolerance I for one could not even dream of at one point. My dear you are doing alright – whatever has brought you to this point does not deserve your magnificence or your power. I want to remind you that help is a brave word and there are so many people out there ready and willing to help you in so many different capacities no matter what your struggle may be. I love you, and you are worthy of a life outside of a fixation on your looks. We all are.

Your friend,

Millie

Posted in Advocacy, Happy Notes, Mental Health, Notes, Personal Growth

What is positivity?

Posted on by Millie :)

This post is inspired by I note I made for my Instagram – @our.happy.notes – which read: ‘For me being positive doesn’t mean being happy or positive all the time, it means allowing myself to appreciate the moments that I do feel positive, and allowing the possibility of hope to exist’. I wrote it because being the inquisitive person I am and being active on social media brought the thought into my mind – what is positivity? What does positivity mean to me?

I’m a person that tends to find myself living in extremes. There either is or there isn’t. I am all or nothing. So with positivity and a mood disorder, I found that I either lived in a state of overwhelming optimist or complete lack of any positive thought at all. What I have found interesting, and beneficial to my mental health, is exploring the space in between. The idea that even in positive moments I can accept that it won’t last forever, and in the times where I lack such I can acknowledge that it doesn’t mean that positivity has disappeared.

I think sometimes even in well meaning spaces, there can be such a pressure to be positive and see the good in life. Unfortunately this simply isn’t possible all of the time, and when we put pressure on ourselves to feel one way or the other it can lead to us feeling even worse. The reality of the situation is that all emotions on the spectrum are valid. Yet the lack of positivity or hope in one moment does not mean it will never return; that it has ceased to exist. Nowadays this is something I like to remind myself – writing it out helps me to absorb it.

So, what is positivity to me? Positivity is not the blind belief in a bright future, but the acceptance of the fact that a bright future could exist. It is allowing the possibility of a good day for someone else happening, even if it isn’t for me. It is embracing the small, joyful things in life – the most minute parts of the world that make me a little less down, even if only for a moment. It is an intangible thing, an emotion, an idea – a beautiful prospect.

However I recognise that in moments we really can want to increase our positive thoughts and feelings in life. I am no expert on this, though I do have some tools that have helped me. In the morning I write down affirmations for the day – ‘Today can be a good day’, ‘I am enough’, etc. In the evening I write a gratitude list – ‘I have a roof over my head’, ‘someone smiled at me in the street’. I list the small things in life that bring me joy. I allow myself to dream wildly, but remind myself that whether or not these dreams materialise, I will be ok. I smile; sometimes I simply sit there and I smile. And when I feel that positivity is disappearing, that hope is waning, I repeat aloud and write on paper that they are not gone forever. These might seem a little silly, but they are some of the most healing things toward my mental health.

Sending love and support to anyone who needs it today!

Love, Millie x

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Small Steps

Posted on by Millie :)

Hey there! 

I’ve been thinking recently on how I can help myself to maintain a better state of mental health, when I’m already feeling a bit better in myself, but also how I can make it easier to lift out of those darker moments. Through some conversations, therapy, and self reflection I have come to appreciate how important the small steps we take to support our mental health are.

However, when you’re feeling particularly blue it can be difficult to even begin to do the smallest things; people can often get annoyed at us for this as well. For me one way of overcoming this is by breaking them down into even smaller steps. For example if my aim is to take my meds, then I’ll start by walking to the drawer, then opening the draw, taking them out, laying them out etc etc. It may seem silly at first – I know for me it almost felt like I was patronising myself – but it might just be of use to try this, and it is a huge thing to take any of these steps so you deserve congratulating for that! 

So what are some of the small steps I’ve come up with to help maintain my mental health? Writing my diary; gratitude and affirmation lists; meds and vits; drinking enough water; walking; allowing myself downtime; using planners to keep on top of work; reading (to make learning fun); making my happy notes; doodling and using fiddle toys; playing piano; meditating and more…

I hope you can find some small steps that will help you maintain your mental health! We all have it and we all need to look after it 

See ya later 🙂

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Lessons from Bipolar

Posted on by Millie :)

I have struggled, and continue to struggle, with my mental health for quite a few years. At first it felt like I was going insane all on my own – a very isolating experience. Slowly, I am learning to manage my mental health, understand myself, and vocalise my experience; it would be untrue to say that receiving the diagnosis of cyclothymia (a subtype of bipolar disorder) did not aid facilitate this. As I continue to battle with my mind, I’ve realised that being in opposition to the reality of my experience does nothing to help me. I am learning to embrace and accept this part of me, and to change my attitudes towards my challenges. Now I try to – though is is difficult – find positivity and gratitude for what I go through; one way I do this is by reflecting on the lessons I have learnt along the way while dealing with this disorder.

So here are some of the lessons I embrace from bipolar: 

First and foremost, there is always good in the bad, even if we can’t see it at the time. Along these lines, when I felt that I had lost myself (as I frequently did) I was actually growing the most, almost like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. And the things I had struggled with most became my greatest sources of strength. Not only this, but what I have been through can actually help other people – for them to feel less alone, for me to share some small wisdom, etc. 

Looking back, I know nothing is too big or difficult for me to overcome. Nothing. I used to live in such fear of the next episode or the next ‘thing’, but each time I survived, and came out stronger – if a bit exhausted. It may take a while, but I will find my path; just because there are bumps along the road doesn’t mean the road has ended, sometimes the bumps make the end result so much more worthwhile. 

Nonetheless, I couldn’t do this alone. The great thing? I don’t have to. I know that now. And asking for help is a brave thing to do, not a weak thing. Anyone living with a mental illness is so strong, not weak or broken. Asking for help has led me to some of the most amazing, kindest people out there, and it was worth the time it took to find them. There are masses of people out there willing to support someone. 

Along the way I’ve made many mistakes; misdirected attempts to cope. But recovering from these (recovery: a journey) has taught me that I am more than my mistakes – I am a nuanced person and neither my slip ups nor my illness define me. The most important steps and changes I make in recovery are the little ones, because they add up and make a huge difference. One day at a time. 

However, I’ve learnt that sometimes I need to do the things I don’t want to or think I don’t have the energy to in order to help me in the long run, for this is certainly a marathon not a sprint. Still, just because I have this difficulty doesn’t mean that it’s a defect. I have learnt that I can face any challenge so long as I approach it with creativity, and from my struggles I can find inspiration. For example, turning my hypomanic experience into poetry. 

For anyone grappling with their diagnosis, keep going yet. This too shall pass, and you are not alone.

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Letter to My Mental Illnesses

Posted on by Millie :)

Hello, 

There’s no need to introduce myself, we know each other well, don’t we? As such I know that you have a habit of finding new ways to creep into my life – you’re always going to be here I suspect, so I suppose it’s time I had a proper conversation with you. Embraced you. Accepted that you are, and always will be, a part of me. 

Well I’d rather not start with the negatives, so let me thank you. You have taught me strength in ways I could never have imagined just a few years ago. You tried to break me – hell, you still do – and yet my scars hold power as a consequence. So thank you for that. And thank you for teaching me kindness, empathy and wisdom. If it wasn’t for you I never would have known what to say to my friends in distress. I never could have overcome issues unrelated to you. If you’re going to stick around you might as well teach me some more of those lessons, because I appreciate them, I really do. And thank you for showing me how lost I was. Thank you for teaching me who I am. Do not mistake me, I am not you. You are a part of me yes, but in realising that I have seen some of the other parts of me that I failed to notice previously. Pretty amazing really. 

Now if you were a physical person I would probably beat bloody at this point. I would scream at you until my throat was raw. I would cry at you, how dare you try to take me away, how dare you try to take my friends, how dare try to cause my family such pain. I would shout at you for every opportunity you took away from me – I wanted to go on that trip. All those days I missed. I actually wanted to be able to go to lessons and focus. I wanted to be around my friends. I wanted to be able to be a stupid teenager for just one day without there being the constant reminder that at any moment I could be struck with the feeling that my heart might explode, or the knowledge that addiction is in my blood.

Yet note I speak in past tense. For in the end, whether you taught me, or I found ways to learn it through necessity to survive, I realised I didn’t really want those things. For every opportunity I missed, I was presented with something else that formed me. And the ones I didn’t miss were golden as a result. If I could let go in the ways I wished, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be able to see the world in the ways I do. 

Still, know this, if you were a person I saw you run at someone else – god forbid someone I love – I would not hesitate to put myself between you and them, for no one deserves that pain, and my dear we are not done fighting yet. 

Seriously though, you are just made of hopelessness and chaos. Some days I think, surely my mental illness must be exhausted because I sure am, but no, there you are again. So come at me. Come at me with everything you’ve got and watch me rise, because I have come too far to give in to you. I will take the creativity from mania and your chaos and I will make something beautiful. I will take the desperation of your darkness and the shaking mess from your anxiety and I will use it to cling to the others who are suffering to make sure we get through. To ensure that you never have such a grip over another person’s life. Come at me – I think you forget that you are a part of me. We have to find some way to live in harmony or we will destroy each other. Come at me old friend, and watch me grow.