Living as me.

Update... because it might need one.

I'm now 19. I am in college and honestly, I am happy. Like, honestly happy. 

And that's weird, to say the least. I got help, I found people who genuinely love me and who I genuinely love back. 

Getting help was hard, but I knew I needed to. One of the reasons it was so hard was because since I was eight years old I had been in a constant state of functioning depression with seasonal depression sprinkled in throughout the yearS just to make things more dull. For ten years I hadn't known what it meant to be truly happy. I had no recognition of what I was like when I was happy and what if I didn't like the person I turned out to be. I had just gotten comfortable with being who I was when I was depressed and what if happy me wasn't the same person. I found out that happy me wasn't the same me and I do like that, I love it. I love being happy and having love to give the world. I got rid of the toxicity in my life, from people to my job, I got out and I did more. I found a man, a man who could make me laugh instead of smiling and shrugging my shoulders, a man how made me feel safa and all the while make me feel free. I found him when I most needed someone and he's still by my side a year later. It's been 10 months since my last episode and I can't explain how great it feels. Some days of course can be hard, but it only lasts a few hours and I can pull myself back.

Asking for help has the hardest part, the first time I went to ask for some kind of medication, I had a panic attack and ended up bailing out, then i freaked out the whole drive home, which I definitely don't recommend driving through a panic attack, but if i said that I haven't done it my fair share of times I'd be a liar. I also had to sign a contract stating that I won't kill myself. I won't lie it's a running joke through my family and friends, not to make light of suicide. I told the doctor that I didn't want to kill myself, but if it happened I wouldn't really be upset right in front of my mom and I'm sure that wasn't a pleasant experience for her. I still feel really bad for that, but as soon as I started to tell the doctor how I felt it was like an avalanche of information that I never meant to say out loud. So two years later I have been diagnosed with bipolar depression, OCD, and a panic disorder. 

I feel so good. I don't know how to even explain how good I feel. 

I know nobody reads this, but I'm fine with that. 

I am happy. That's all.