Where to begin...

I've thought long & hard about starting this blog. Yesterday, as I ran 6 miles, I consistently had tears streaming down my face as I thought about all the different entries and all the things I could say. A lot of people don't sob and continue running for an hour. But there are those out there that know the feeling and this blog is for them, but most importantly for me.

I'm currently going through a deep, dark depressive episode. As bad as it gets. I've been this way for two months. 

I've been reading a lot. If I'm honest with myself, I've been reading a lot- too much - since June. Like anything I can get my hands on. Things to numb the pain and distract. Any escape from this reality. Binge reading, let's call it. In June I broke an engagement and moved abruptly, using a manic episode to bolster the energy it takes to get out of a situation I had been unhappy in for some time (I'm realizing partly... no, mostly, my relationship's dramatic demise was because I wasn't doing enough to master my disease). After the medication took hold and after I had moved, I began the typical steady decline into depression. I've been sitting at rock-bottom for a while now.

Lately I've made sure to get my hands on books about bipolar disorder in the hopes I might find some answers or get help. Memoirs mostly. They do, in fact, help. The only problem is that I find most of the authors are 'out of the woods' or stand at the other end of the tunnel 'in the light.' Some authors describe their horror stories in segments or chronological order; other books fall under the category of bipolar self-help books more or less (or at least to me). The latter I find frustrating because all the recommendations are so much easier said than done, and the former I take comfort in but wish I knew exactly what these people DID, during the road to recovery, to feel better. Mastering bipolar disorder seems to be a matter of trial and error above anything else.

I have a very poor memory. I've read that part of the reason is that bipolar disorder itself causes memory loss or certain states are not conducive to memory storage. I want to remember my life, both the good and the bad, so that I can understand what has happened and still does happen to me. I am tired of blacked out periods, or blank periods where no matter how hard I rack my brain I simply can't remember. For a long time I've wanted to keep a journal but haven't been able to find the self-discipline (I lack that in most areas of my life) to write regularly. A driving force to encourage me to hammer out this process - thought for thought, word for word, bit by bit - is that it might help someone else.

I am not 'fixed.' I am not stable. I am not anywhere close to where I need to be. But, finally, I am trying to look at my life through the lens of having bipolar disorder. 

What bipolar memoirs have taught me is that I am not alone in these patterns and symptoms and that they are common with those who have this diagnosis; that they are predictable even. What these books have not taught me are the incremental steps, the day by day stories of struggle, failure, and the success in fighting through this disease.

The spring of 2011 will bring the 10-year anniversary of my first manic episode. This blog is meant to commemorate that milestone. In part, I want to atone for my sins. I've hurt a lot of people and done of a lot of terrible things during the last decade. And in part, I want to track my progress. Get out of my head, have my emotions manifest themselves into words instead of just thoughts that race, that torture, and manifest themselves into actually physical pain. I ache. I hurt so much.

So this blog is for me but also for anyone else who stumbles upon it. I want anyone in a similar state who finds this to know they aren't alone.

And maybe, together, we can find a way out of this.