It’s that time of year where everyone is moving back into their dorms or apartments. First years are posting pictures of their “new home”, and everyone else is looking forward to the friends they’ll be reunited with. Then there’s me. I’m sure I’m not the only one in my boat, but gosh if I don’t think the boat is sinking sometimes.
I left university in January of this year following a diagnosis of Bipolar II, a diagnosis that would be followed by POTS; then all the fun would start as I was doped up on drug after drug.
It was supposed to be better by now, I was supposed to be attending school full time this semester. In fact I did, for three days. Then my medicine was changed again, turns out being sick to your stomach and vomiting while on depakote isn’t exactly preferred. So my meds changed, and I dropped all five classes, as suggested by my psychiatrist, and now I’m back at square one. It’s a year’s vacation I wasn’t accounting for, I can tell you that!
Now I’m frantically searching for something to do. Sleeping and sitting aren’t preferred tasks, and I have yet another few months, now, where I’ll be the only one lacking a day job. The problem is I can’t seem to find something that I want to do, am qualified to do, and can physically do. It’s a challenge. I can’t even find something I want to train to do.
But hey, at least I have support. Maybe I don’t have the path I’d imagined, but aside from school/working, I wouldn’t change a thing. Even Bipolar. It’s the worst, but it brought me here.