I am writing my book; my story. I have been so proud of the fact that I have pushed on with this project and have now written about my first thirteen years. Despite the fact that I encountered a harrowing experience at the age of 10; almost being raped by a family member; this is nothing compared to reliving the memories of 1990, when I first started showing all the signs of bipolar. The confusion and hated I had of myself literally turns my stomach. These are hard pages and memories to write about. My skin crawls as I relive the cries for help that went unnoticed; put aside as teenage mood swings. I do not blame anyone, no-one knew. I was the first girl for my parents and my psychologist was not given the opportunity to properly diagnose me.
I was angry and full of hate. I can feel this anger and hatred as I write and it really does make me so very sad. I think the hardest part to relive however is the fear. I was so scared and I felt so alone. God give me the courage and strength to continue. I know that I am starting to find other distractions to stop having to relive these memories, but please God; do not let me get to myself. Do not let me be my own worse enemy.
Perhaps, this will be a very therapeutic experience. In my own mind, I have forgiven this family member, but I have never let him know. Perhaps it would be good to write him a letter. Perhaps this story is a letter to me, in order to forgive myself.