the crazy crutch.

So I said that being bipolar doesn't mean I'm crazy. 

And it doesn't.

But I was sure quick to use it as a crutch whenever it was convenient.

Such as ...

I promised to be home by 5 and didn't blow in until 7 with zero explanations or apologies? You can't be mad at me for it. I'm crazy. I can't help it. I shouldn't be held responsible for my actions because it will make my crazy worse. I'll have a meltdown and end up wanting to kill myself. 

I spent $300 on various monogrammed goodies (Holla, Etsy. Don't worry - we're still besties. Can't stop, won't stop.) after I promised to chill out on the money for a while because I went on a Target/Etsy/Gap binge during a manic episode? Confronting me isn't fair. I'm crazy. Yelling at me will make me want to kill myself.

I lied about where I was and wouldn't answer calls or texts for hours because I didn't want anyone to question me about how I was behaving? I have psychiatric issues. I should get a pass. If not, I may want to kill myself.

I yelled and screamed at someone and had a meltdown because I didn't want to be honest about my destructive habits? Leave me alone. You don't understand. If I don't get my way and can't continue to take off on irrational fits of rage just because I feel like it, I'll have thoughts of killing myself.

It sounds ridiculous. And it was. I was completely off the rails. I was destructive to myself and to my family. I threw sharp words and hateful barbs at the people who loved me the most, and I left wreckage in my wake wherever I went.

It sounds exaggerated. But it's not. I took complete advantage of the fact that my people were concerned about me and used my depression to demand full immunity from my bad decisions and hatefulness. 

I'm not ashamed of mental illness. I'm not ashamed of telling my story. But I am ashamed of the way I treated the people who love me the most. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I was so hollow inside that I didn't care. I figured if it got too bad, I would check out. Taking all my pills and leaving it all behind - that was my fallback plan for everything. I knew I was headed full speed toward a day that my recklessness would pass the point of no return and that I could end up doing something so unforgivable that I pushed my family to be done with me. (To be clear - I never got up in the mornings with a previously planned agenda of screwing up. But once something kicked off my downward spiral, there was no stopping it.) I had decided the easiest way to avoid the consequences or the unpleasantness of taking responsibility for myself was to kill myself. I was that sick.

I used my depression and bipolar disorder to justify a sense of entitlement to do whatever I felt like - spending money, flaking out on plans, shirking responsibilities at home and at work, picking fights with anyone I could engage, playing the victim whenever I felt wronged (meaning whenever I didn't get my way), refusing to acknowledge that I was out of control, refusing to let anyone help me. I was that sick. 

The days of being sick aren't gone, but gone are the days of using being sick as a crutch. I have a lot of wrongs to make right, and I'm okay with that. I can't fix them overnight, and I'm okay with that too. I'm finally owning all the damage I caused, and if it makes sense, I feel good about it. 

It's time to put on my big girl panties, deal with the fallout, and start rebuilding what I tore down. I'm fortunate enough to have a support system so incredible that I don't have the words to do them justice. They haven't wavered. Ever. They kept coming back every day for more abuse (Brutal honesty alert. The way I treated them was emotionally and psychologically abusive. I'm appalled by that and absolutely mortified to admit it here, but burying it under layers of denial won't erase it.) no matter how much I had heaped on them the day before. No one has demanded restitution or apologies, but they all deserve it. Getting help saved my life, and it saved my family too.

I don't care if it takes the rest of forever to show my people that the days of the Crazy Crutch are over; they're so worth it. And so am I.

xo.