It’s been a minute.

More than a minute, actually, I think about a year if not more? Either way, hey. I’ve been gone and I don’t know if I should explain myself or not. To keep it short though, consistency isn’t my spillion (meaning it isn’t my strong suit) but I am trying in other avenues of life though.

I’m back to tell you what’s been happening with the girl. In laymen terms, the girl has been going through a lot, I’m having a panic attack as I’m typing this and that is actually the motivation behind this piece – I can’t breathe, literally and figuratively.

So beautiful people. I hope you’ve been well, and that life has been kind (I know it has not but I’m trying to be positive and affirm joy in your life)

In summary, apart from the obvious I got diagnosed with Bipolar type 2, depression and wait for it… anxiety and boy has that been a ride! I live on medication and prayer for a sane tomorrow. I’ve been okay for the most part, but when it gets rough, it gets tough (that was not a wording mistake, I meant what I said).

It’s amazing how dark it can get before dawn right? We live life in hope and faith that this is as dark as it gets but then character development is like “no my darling, it gets darker and I’d really like to see you break before I give you a break, get it?”

Amid my diagnosis, I got 4 tattoos, cut myself, an alcohol problem, and a minor sexual addiction problem. I say minor because I’m trying to console myself okay. Judge or do not judge, whatever floats your boat is okay really.

Did you know that bipolar is developed and has nothing to do with heredity? Yup! Turns out all those years of sexual, verbal, and emotional abuse have joined hands to make healing just that much more impossible. That is how I developed Bipolar my lovings, from trauma surrounding abuse.

Here’s another juicy story, I got admitted for rehabilitation from my unhealthy coping mechanisms and to learn how to live with my condition. In the middle of the therapy sessions and the forgiveness talks, I wrote a letter to my abuser. I had this stupid bright idea to contact him and let him know how his abuse affected my life and etc… The man was high and asked me “okay. What must I say? Do you want an apology? And hung up the phone.” Was I not in disbelief? I laughed hey, I was like there is no way this call just happened. I know men are the bottom, but this is a new low I never knew existed. He later eventually called and apologised “I’m sorry for raping you, and physically abusing you.” I still wanted him dead though.

I got discharged and the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter and felt warmer on my skin. The healing began and the episodes began to occur less frequent and last less longer.

I’m currently experiencing an episode, it’s been about a week of a depressive low, a low filled with suicidal thoughts, falling back into old habits minus the alcohol because lockdown. Why am I telling you this? I also don’t know but hopefully your takeaway from this is that:

The same way the sun rises, so shall it set.

We anticipate the setting because it’s been engraved that all good things must come to an end.

We seldom anticipate the rise because we get lost looking for stars in the night sky, we get lost looking for hope, forsaking the faith that the sun will rise.

We miss the sunrise and anticipate the sunset.

I guess what I am trying to say is that it’s been hard looking for a reason to anticipate the sunrise, the dawn but I soldier on regardless and pray you do too.

I don’t want to die; I just want the pain to subside.

-Let’s chat. Love Lelo.

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