3.5 years. Two hospitalizations. One note that said “Get help” on an empty bedroom door. This is the story of my estrangement from my daughters, what I had to burn down to become someone worth coming back to, and how I found my way back to them. This is not a highlight reel. This is…
I spent weeks brushing off the warning signs. By Saturday night I was drunk, paranoid, isolating, and convinced my life needed to end. Bipolar had full control and I refused every single person who tried to help. It took two syringes and a really long nap to slow me down. I’m out now, stable, sober,…