I’ve been struggling with my mental health since I was 12 years old. I am diagnosed with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, adhd, ocd, and ptsd. Today I’m sitting in my new apartment. I moved in a week ago. My beautiful son (who admittedly is the result of a manic episode but I have no regrets) is sleeping in the room next door. My bills are paid and I have no worries about keeping them paid. I never thought I would be stable enough to live on my own. For the past 10 years it’s just been hospitalization after hospitalization. 13 hospital visits and 7 attempts later I thought there was no hope for me. But I did it. I love my job. I love my friends. I love my son. I love my life. And I’m going to keep fighting as hard as I can to maintain this. Not just for my son but for me, because I deserve to be happy. I deserve to feel safe. It took me a very long time to realize that but I know it’s true now.
