I do my best to take responsibility for the wrong doings and choices I have made. With a lot of help from my mental health provider, I have come to accept that mental illness gave some of those bad choices a very large push. A simple purchase turned into a mountain of debt. A rash decision turned into a car loan I can’t get out from under. I am drowning in the ruins of my financial mishaps, from my spending sprees. I still fall off the wagon so to speak. Bipolar is forever ❤️.
In all seriousness, bipolar has ruined my life. It has taken away my teenage years and filled them full of hatefulness and blatant disregard for those I care for’s feelings. It filled my twenties with larger than life shenanigans that I am now spending the beginning of my 30s trying to navigate. I am days away from calling the finance company to come pick up the car that I voluntarily accepted with a 28% interest rate on. Honestly, I feel a weight on my chest that I cannot breathe under. I try to stay positive. I will say that I am angry. I am angry that I can be so impulsive. I am angry that I made these choices. I want someone to blame. I want someone to tell me to suck it up. I want to lay in bed and call out of work. I want to cry.
I really just want to fix what I broke. I should be grateful for what I have salvaged. My life, my relationships (some), my career, my education. Tonight I am ungrateful and consumed by my disappointment.
(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)