This is my personal journal about my failures and sometimes my accomplishments in life. I’m not a perfect person by far. I am trying though. Not as hard as some people would like. But I am trying my best. Names of people in my life are going to be changed when I write this but everything else will remain as raw and truthful as possible.

There have been other journals in the past. But even in just the little paper journals no one would read I couldn’t be fully honest about who I am. I have a lot of self esteem issues. I hate that I’m not doing enough with my life. I hate that some of the things I’m doing are wrong and conflict with my moral beliefs.

I’m a woman. I’m currently 26 as I write this… I’m dating a much older and married man. It’s not something I’m proud of but that’s an important truth about me. I do love him so very much. I also live with my parents, it’s a bit embarrassing at my age. But I have bipolar 2 disorder and honestly I can be a mess. I can’t hold a job down. I have an artsy/entertainer type job technically but I only get maybe 10-15 gigs a year. One of those gigs is quite large but I don’t know if I’ll get it this year. My art mentor loves me and I have a lot of talent in that area. But I’m crap at marketing myself and even if I got frequent gigs knowing myself I’d probably get really overwhelmed by the work. I pay my parents a small bit of rent. I’m on disability in my lovely country and that’s the only reason I can pay anything for rent. Thank goodness for the psychiatrist who thought “This girl is definitely too crazy to work long term.”

I have a great psychiatrist now. She’s very new to the field so she’s not jaded yet. But I’m scared that when she finishes her residency she’ll leave me in the dust.

I have OCD as well but not the “good” kind. I just obsessively check things to make sure they’re okay. Like my door or the stove. I don’t clean up obsessively. If anything I’m pretty messy. And I worry a lot about the people and creatures I love. My cat is old and sick and I’m terrified sometimes to leave the house in case something happens to him when I’m away. That cat is one of the only things I’ve done right in life. He’s a good cat and he loves me and only me. And I want to be there for him if anything happens.

I’m a Christian, but the kind of Christian who had many gay ministers growing up and who accepts all religions. I don’t think anyone is really going to hell. I believe in a forgiving God. I guess that’s how I justify dating a married man. But even though I don’t believe other people are going to hell sometimes I’m still scared that I am… but my big fear is the possibility of nothingness. My mind could never quite grasp that. I used to want to be a minister soo sooooo badly. But I’m shit at school. And ministers need masters degrees and that’s just not gonna happen for me. My back up plan was to be a writer but it’s hard for me to concentrate long enough to write the novels I dream of.

I have some good friends. But the friendship I crave is missing from my life. I don’t have that wonderful connection where we tell each other everything and validate each other and lift each other up. My friend Elizabeth is a sweetheart and she’s my go to person if I’m depressed. But Elizabeth and me just don’t have the “friend chemistry” that I found in another girl who moved to a different city for her boyfriend. And it’s like if I hadn’t experienced that wonderful validating friendship where someone could always argue on my behalf then I probably wouldn’t miss it or want it. But now that I’ve felt that connection I just want it so badly. I think one day me and Elizabeth will be closer and maybe then she’ll give me the friendship I crave.

I’ve been to the hospital many times for depressive and manic episodes. I’ll likely go again. But I’m trying not to even if I really want to for a while. I want to learn to cope on my own and it’s getting embarrassing being admitted to the hospital 1 or 2 times a year. Like they know me there now and it doesn’t make me feel great about myself. I’m always scared people will think I’m faking it. Also the last time I went there a nurse told me I had “average intelligence” and the judgement really hurt. Nothing wrong with being average. I just thought that for all my faults at least I was smart. And also the last time I was there they sent me home when I was telling them I wasn’t ready and that I didn’t feel any better.

Now I’m taking lithium and this new drug and they’re going well for me. I do feel like at the very least I’m holding on and not succumbing to these dark days as quickly as I once would…

Eventually I’ll edit this and make it shorter but I think that’s good for now.