Somebody asked me if I could do more today and the answer is yes! If that person or anyone else needs support PM me or email me (selfharmblog at gmail dot com) or visit my tumblr (recovering from self harm dot tumblr dot com) I am here for anyone and everyone who needs it. Don't read if this will trigger you.
I don't own House of Anubis.
The doctor patiently explains to me what bipolar disorder is. Basically people with bipolar experience mood swings that range from severe depression to extreme mania. I am currently experiencing mania, which is why I spent the money, lose control of my cutting and am talking really fast. She explains to me that I have to take mood stabilizers and that it is important that I stay on my meds.
The next day Eddie comes to visit me. We sit in a small room that is used as a classroom so that patients can keep up with there classes. The center employs a teacher who basically communicates with our schools and helps us complete assignments.
"So," he says, "How have you been?"
"I'm think I've been alright," I tell him.
"You think?" He questions.
"Well it's been a long few days," I say, "They know what's wrong with me now."
"What is it?" he asks.
"I'm bipolar," I tell him, "I have bipolar disorder."
"Is there a treatment for that?" He asks.
"Yeah," I tell him, "Mood stabilizers."
"I hope it works," he tells me, "I hate to think of you in pain."
"I'm not in pain," I tell him, "I'm actually pretty happy."
"Well then why did you," he stops, "Do what you did?"
"I was manic," I tell him, "I am manic still the meds haven't brought me back down yet. And Joy and I had a fight. It's how I respond to stress, the cutting. It's how I deal with things."
"How long?" he asks.
"A really long time," I say, almost in tears, "Long enough for what I was doing to myself to stop scaring me."
"Where are your scars?" he asks.
"Arms, legs, it's crazy how much of what was normal skin is now scarred. I have memories of it being normal and it makes me so sad that it's not."
"It's still beautiful," he tells me, "Just like everything about you."
"Thank you," I say to him.
"Can I just ask you one thing?"
"Yes," I nod.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispers.
"I didn't know how to," I tell him, "I am so sorry for everything."
"Don't be sorry," he says, "We all have problems."
"Thank you so much for being there for me," I say.
"You are welcome," he says, "I am so incredibly proud of how strong you're being."