So… here is the story:

I went crazy hahaha yeah that’s my way of slowly explaining things… but ok, here I go: I had my reasons for going bananas. I am now in the midst of being diagnosed as anxious depressive, bipolar type 2 or bipolar type 3 (don’t ask me the difference among those last two, I am practically sure not even my young psychiatrist, that one that suggested those possible diagnosis, is able to discern between them).

How I came about to being in front of a psychiatrist? (You ask yourself with honest concern).

Well I had a really awful year, since May I started having blue days followed by normal weeks, but as the world turned and turned the frequency of such bad days started to spike, by October I was mostly out of my game; and so, the sad and crazy parade started…

I did not go home for the holidays (big mistake) and I had little money to spend because I decided to move into my own apartment (really big mistake)… then one day, between Christmas and New year’s eve I had too much access to alcohol (last mistake). 

By 3 pm the next day an understanding and kind of funny doctor was telling me all about being bipolar and writing down my (first ever) prescription for coo-coo pills. Then I spent about 6 o 7 weeks trying to get the right mix of medication and therapy… It was neither effortless, nor much fun; but necessary.

Right now I am at two pinkish pills a day and a total of six happy-drops. I have 4 different doctors that are each taking a mental limb and trying to readjust it. I get assignments from all of them and I do all of them as best as I can.

(Sound simple. It was not. I edited out the worst parts and subtracted most of the pain).

I am back to writing, taking photographs and enjoying life in general. I can now see that I have one of the best working places there is. I read a lot and I am trying to attend more museums, plays and parties. I am not normal and I am content to inform, you all, that normal is not my goal. However I am happy as happy can be and that, for the time being, is something to be proud of. 

I am not sure I should be exposing this side of me; most books about depression and bipolarity advice you not to reveal your diagnosis and fears to possible future bosses or present coworkers… though nothing specific about blogging about it hahaha. I know it might be a mistake, but right now I don’t feel like hiding, I want to kiss and tell, I need to free this story. Maybe/possibly/peut-être in the future I will reconsider and UN-publish this post, but for now, it stays and it will act as an introduction to the second act of this blog. 

Second Act:

Hello, little world, I am doing well and I want back in.