So, here I am. 5 hours since my last post and I’ve made a little progress….and by progress I mean I’m swimming at the bottom of my vodka bottle with what little dignity I have left this Sunday evening. The nights are certainly the hardest as I fight every ounce of my being to not contact him. I try and distract myself with  humorous shows like The Big Bang Theory and Todd Chrisley Knows Best. I’m successful while I have a drink in my hand to slowly numb the pain…but crawling into bed, alone, realizing you’re tipsy for no reason, and you feel about 10 shades darker than you did before, is a hard pill to swallow.

The pain I feel without having him near me or in close contact is down right unbearable. Nobody in life prepares you for what its like to feel everything so deeply. Nobody tells you the walls you’ll have to climb when your heart gets broken or the amount of muck you’ll have to dredge through to feel a sense of calmness for all of 10 minutes. When you’re Bipolar, nobody can prepare you for the rollercoaster ride we call life. You pick up people along the way and the restraints from the curves, sudden drops, and inversions can’t keep them safe…so you let them go. Because you know that’s what is best for them. Or maybe not even what’s best for them, because lets be honest here. Half the people in your life that you let go because you think you’re doing them a favor is a disservice to yourself. The majority of the people you cut loose will be your biggest and strongest soldiers.

So, why do we do this? Why do we make it so hard for others to fight for us? Why do we insist on fighting these battles alone? Why can’t we comprehend what it’s like to not feel like we’re dying  slowly in a shallow grave?

Like I mentioned in my previous entry I was recently prescribed Zoloft. I’m debating if it will help the overall picture or if it’s a temporary fix. If I stop taking Zoloft for whatever reason will these emotions that I’m trying so hard to work through come back? Or will I be cured?

I need a healthier coping mechanism because finding my problems at the bottom of the bottle is only adding fuel to the fire.