NIGHT IS THE DAY TURNED INSIDE OUT

It finally happened: I moved back to the East Coast. I’m heading back to the physical state where I grew up and experienced a tremendous amount of trauma. I was undiagnosed bipolar 1. I found my Mom dead. A dead body, so unreal. My father wasn’t really there for me, and he was likely undiagnosed too (still to this day I believe). My brother was one grade ahead of me, so while he was there for some time to help, he needed to move on to university and live his life.

I’ve put off this move for any reason that I could, but my care team was adamant. The days and weeks leading up to a move, when you have to fly out your own brother to help, just whisk by. I had already leased an apartment, because the cost of a mattress and bed weren’t enough to allow me to flake. So two apartment fees, living off of Social Security Disability Insurance, and I’m supposed to relax. There goes my restricting anorexia again (current BMI: 16).

One thing about bipolar is that you should keep a steady sleep schedule to help control it. Flying across the country doesn’t allow for that (a decade or so of PST to a night in MDT to finally settle in EST).

I forgot to give thirty day notice of move-out, managed to take a Lyft to the wrong hotel (there were no direct flights, so we spent a extra night out West), and forgot to ship some furniture to my new apartment, among others. I had a list, but clearly forgot to update it.

Mistakes happen, but you don’t have to take them personally; it’s part of life, not your character/diagnosis. Breath and move on to the next mistake. Consider your blessings. In the meantime, live your life.