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In March, my psychiatrist changed my diagnosis (which I'd been carrying for 6 years) from depression to bipolar. Tried to prescribe mood stabilizers but I couldn't do it anymore. I shook her hand, thanked her for everything and told her she probably wouldn't see me ever again.
This year has been difficult in ways I still fail to describe. But I'd been on antidepressants (on and off) since 2014 and the therapeutic benefits were little to none. Not going down that route again.
But everyday has been difficult.
But everyday has been difficult.
The only way I can describe the year is waking up and feeling like someone had poured wet cement over my face while I was sleeping.
On some days, I've tried my best to mask it because almost everyone I know has told me (at least once, this year) that I'm difficult to be around/no fun. But shit, man, this is exhausting.
