What’s wrong with me?

What if nothing is wrong?  Was anything ever wrong?  If nothing is wrong, then why on earth do things feel so weird?

My world was falling apart when I went into treatment six, seven weeks ago.  I was in darkness, and had no idea where the bottom was.  I am glad and grateful to be where I’m at now – being in the treatment center was the most amazing thing that happened in this whole process.  Physically, I was able to get on the right meds and I’ve finally been on that right mix for more than six weeks.  Mentally, the therapy sessions there were amazing.  I learned coping skills and tools that have helped me keep the panic attacks away.  I have things under control to the point that I have not had to take a klonipin in more than six weeks.  Things are going well …


I feel like this is a calm before a coming storm.  I feel like I’m bordering on hypomania perhaps?  I feel like all of this is going away and I imagined it all?   The brain on fire, the hell of the panic attacks, the terror of being scared to leave my own room, the constant crying.  Did it even really happen?

Am I hanging on to my depressive state now, like I was hanging on to the manic state?  Do I want to feel low?  I’m just not sure of what’s going on in my mind and my heart.  My belief in God and how He communicates with me tells me that I will never be given more trials than I can deal with, but man … this one is one that’s making me reconsider everything from the top down.

What am I?

Who am I?

Where did I come from?

What is my purpose here?

Why does this have to be my trial?

I promised my therapist in the treatment facility that I would strive to incorporate more spirituality into my life as a means of keeping myself grounded and progressing.  I’ve been trying to listen to at least one conference talk every morning, and I’ve at least been reading the Book of Mormon with my kiddos every night, but I’m still lacking in just … overall understanding of my path and purpose.  Anyone have a compass I can borrow?

I’ve switched to therapy just twice a month instead of four times, and just completed the off week.  I’m not sure how it felt and the difference it really made – but I am glad that there will be a session this coming week.  I just can’t shake this worry that … poof!  The bipolar was a dream, and none of it ever happened.

It’s been such a painful process reinventing myself and having to figure out who I really am over the last three months.  Do I have to do that again?   I don’t think that’s the reason for this trial, and I hope that I don’t have to walk this road again.  I’ve got a winning family and support system – it may be time to lean a little more, but in a different direction.


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