monograms & madness.

Once upon a time, I had a blog. And once upon a time, I let that blog die a slow and neglectful death.

I have high hopes that this blog won't suffer the same fate, but I'm not making any promises. 

If I'm being brutally honest - and let me warn you now that brutal honesty is one of the foundations on which this blog is being created - then I have to tell you that part of the reason I let the other blog go was that it didn't feel genuine anymore. All of the photos and anecdotes I posted were true, but they were such a small part of my world. Much of what I lived every day was intentionally omitted because I convinced myself that those experiences were things to be ashamed of or kept under wraps lest the world think I was crazy or broken or ungrateful for my life. 

I felt fake. 

So I quit.

Fast forward about 18 months (and a few trips to hell and back), and here I am. 

I can't say exactly what this blog will become, and for now I think that's just fine. (I can, however, say exactly what it won't become, and I think that's even more important.)

My world is a mixture (sometimes equal parts and other times not so much) of monograms and madness, and it's my goal here to include just as much of one as I do the other. To illustrate - I made a list of potential blogging topics I didn't want to forget in the back of my monogrammed planner after I made today's to-do list on a separate monogrammed notepad. That list included getting my bipolar meds refilled and keeping an appointment this afternoon with my counselor. 

Some days are funny, and some days are sad. (Isn't that the case for all of us?) Some days I can barely make myself get out of bed, and some days I feel so great I start to think I don't need the meds anymore. There are times when I cycle so rapidly that it makes my own head spin; and there are other times that the highs or lows would stretch out for weeks (or months) on end. Each scenario is equally taxing - mentally and physically. I was deluded enough for a while to think I could manage it on my own, and it nearly killed me.

There came a day that I was one hopeless decision away from a choice that could never be undone. It scared my family (and me - even though I wouldn't admit it) to a point that I couldn't explain my behavior away anymore. I wasn't convinced that anything would help, but I went through the motions and made an appointment (mostly just so they would leave me alone).

I've never been a fan of roller coasters. The sudden drops and feeling so out of control terrify me. I remember sitting in my doctor's office and sobbing the first time she mentioned bipolar disorder. It finally clicked. I don't ride roller coasters because I live on one.

Two years later - I'm still learning to live with it.

xo.