Late night talks with good friends

So, last night/this morning, I received a pleasant surprise which has made the entirety of my recent misfortune ebb away. I received a message from a good friend I hadn't talked to in nearly a year, and amazingly we were able to carry on a rather lengthy conversation about our lives. In all we talked for almost eight hours, something that never happens with me, usually I run out of things to say within the first few minutes of a conversation, but for some reason we just connect when we talk. This happy occurrence has given me cause to talk about my friends and what I have to appreciate and be thankful for.

I want to thank all my friends who have been there for me in the past and put up with all my faults and problems. I know that I haven't always been the easiest person to work with, or live with, or even deal with at times, and I am trying to change that. Really I'm just glad that you have all stuck through it with me, especially those who have been there with me when I've stood at the edge and stared into the darkest parts of myself, contemplating the perceived futility of my actions. Those of you who weren't able to be there with me, I understand why, and I harbor no ill will towards you. I do understand that it has strained my relationships with people, and cost me some potential friends or loves, but I also hope that you understand that I spend each day fighting with two demons, each trying to destroy me in a different way. Living with Bipolar Disorder is something that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Some people think, and have told me, that it is nothing major and everyone has mood swings. While true that most people experience mood swings it is difficult to describe just how painful it is to go to sleep unable to tell if you'll wake up stable, manic, or too depressed to move.

The worst part of having this disease is not the lack of an actual cure, or the uncertainty of how you will react or behave, it's the ignorance of others that hurts the most. Every time I meet someone I can't tell them I'm Bipolar, and those that I do don't always accept it. I've had people cut off contact entirely, or watch me like I'm suddenly going to attack them, but the worst are the people who look at me as though I'm going to infect them with something. In today's supposedly enlightened world and society it seems that the disabled or ill are always relegated to a substandard view. Struggling with myself everyday to keep it together, it hurts more than most could imagine to hear someone say that I shouldn't be here. I have just as much right to be attending college as anyone else, and telling me that I'm not suited for it does nothing to help me. Sometimes I wonder just when I'm going to get my break, when are things going to ease up on me and let me get back on my feet.

My life has always seemed wonderful to people who only know me by reputation, or just know my parents, but beneath the carefully constructed facade and the masks that I wear I've been fighting my own demons for a long time.