Living just in case things get better
I’m in a homeless shelter. I’m in a homeless shelter and I don’t know what to do. I’m in a homeless shelter and my mom still calls me everyday. I’m in a homeless shelter and I feel like my life is standing still
I think I always knew I was bipolar, from the moment when I was 17 and decided to crash my mother’s car into a pole. 7 times I’ve been taken to mental hospitals. Sometimes I lie and tell them I’m fine because a part of me wishes they were wrong. That I’m not bipolar. That I just had a bad day. But it always comes back. Everytime I stop taking my medication, every time I go manic and lose myself.
So that’s what brings me here. Mom is done with me. And I understand why. I’m too much. Too much to bare. All I want to do is go back to her. To be normal. To live a happy life. When I was younger being bipolar was a funny and maybe at times a dangerous characteristic of my personality. But it was just a part of being a college student. I have a master in social work if you can believe it. Things are different now, it’s becoming detrimental to my life. Why couldn’t I have been born normal ?
Tell me it’s possible to come out of a homeless shelter unscathed…tell me there’s still hope.