20 – Bipolar – the hand of support

I was part of two worlds in that moment. I was that lost and desperately sad me from 10 years ago, but at the same time was my 43 year old self living a life. A real and meaningful life, where the coat of armour has been replaced with a useless rain mac, but one which allows the real world to seep into my soul.

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18 – Bipolar – my first nervous breakdown

My self esteem was on the floor from constant rejection. I was tired of faking a smile. Tired of hiding my illness. Overwhelmed by everything.

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