Yesterday ended up being a difficult day. The evening was the hard part. After my husband left for work, this deep heart-rending, wretched feeling set in. I started to feel ashamed of who I am; that is a feeling I haven’t felt in quite a while. I thought it was because of my weight, but that wasn’t it. I spent more time crying tonight than I have in months.

My mom called and we talked for a while. I started to tell her how I was feeling. As I was talking to her I figure out what the issue was. It was that my doctor completed my total and permanent disability paperwork. My therapist was also willing to do the paperwork if I needed it. Because of this paperwork, I realized that I had been on disability for 78 months. Wow, that is a long time. It’s something about being told I’m permanently disabled. I know it’s just a term, but it’s already been so long, and I’m not doing much better. I guess that’s why they diagnosed me as treatment resistant.

No matter what do or how hard I try, there’s always going to be a problem. I’ll go up and down; it will get better and worse, but the possibility of me becoming and staying stable is not likely. When my doctor filled out that paperwork for the total and permanent disability, he did so because he believes that to be true. He doesn’t believe that I will get back to fully functioning. I suppose I don’t believe I will get back to what I had before; a job and a social life. I don’t think everything is a failure; I’m just questioning it all.

The good thing is that I know this will pass. I will have an up-swing again, these feelings will go away, and I’ll deal with the problems of mania. At least my life stays interesting; it’s always something.