Hania

Something dark seems to happen to me, the moment I use. I fall and fall, till I feel nothing but despair, shame and selfpity. And I continue, because I can't stop and actually just want to die anyway. My binges lasted arround 6-8 weeks at a time in which I destroyed everything I've build before and hurt everybody I cared for.

It was an insane circle of building and destroying that was most extreme the last 10 years. I was in/out the rooms, in/out university, in/out rehab, in/out psychatrie...But I could never stop for more than 4 or 6 months. Not even when my boyfriend died of an overdose, my 7 year old son barely wanted to talk to me or when I was picked up by an ambulance due to a heart attack.

What happened to change this?

I guess it was a combination of a lot of things. I was tired enough and stubborn enough for one last try. I've then changed my priorities (me, my recovery and mental health, my son) and stuck to them, I've sorted out people in my surrounding, I've set routines, I've finally got the right medication for my bipolarity, I've understood that "the rooms" have taught me a lot I'm forever grateful for, but are not my way.

I'm living the life I never knew I wanted and it is just freaking awesome! I'm calm and content, resting in myself kind off. I've done a lot of grief work since Fredrik died 3 years ago and this became a part of who I am today as well. The relationship to my son is really good, even when I'm not the "main parent". He sleeps beside me while I'm writing this. I even found love again, in a mature yet breathtaking relationship to an outstanding man. I love my job (njaaaa, most often) and became competent and the go-to person. I discovers how very logical I am and my love for numbers and statistics. I'm discovering and discovering and discovering. And I'm laughing a lot.

It became so good, so fast that I'm sometimes terrified that this is all just a dream and I wake up, crowled into the corner of my bed, in my filth, psychotic and dellusional, like I used to.