As long as the ties that bind us together are stronger than those that would tear us apart, all will be well. – Twelve Traditions of Narcotics Anonymous
Depression hit me hard when I started high school. I sometimes wish I could remember the events then to see if I could find what triggered it. At 14, I experimented with marijuana and alcohol and suffered the consequence of being molested at a hotel party. No one believed me at the time and for a while, I felt quite awful. That same year, my alcoholic father moved back in with my family. He had sobered up, but he was still mean. I did not care to have him back in our lives. At 23 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Prior to diagnosis I had been heavily smoking marijuana and doing 2-4 lines of cocaine every night for 3-4 months. This time it was my turn to not believe something and I convinced myself that the manic-psychosis I had experienced was a drug-induced psychosis. Three years later I would find out it was not when I went through my second manic-psychosis break.
I am better now. Medicated. But there are many casualties that lie in between these lines. Our ties did not hold to the force and nature of my disorder. No longer tethered, but forgiven. And I guess that is well enough.
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Camera: Olympus OM-D EM-10 Mark II