I saw my therapist today. I like her, she asks a lot of questions, and she really is qualified to help me unlike that other therapist. However, today was one of the most emotional days I have had in a while. Ups and downs, and then some news that I have been misdiagnosed all these years.

In Grade 2, I was diagnosed with ADHD. That was about 20 years ago. I didn’t know what that meant, all I knew was that my brain functioned at a higher level than everyone else’s. My brain thought faster.

Turns out, I DO NOT have ADHD, or I have this along with another mental illness: Bipolar Disorder Type II or Cyclothymia.  Both of these disorders are manic depression disorders that affect the mood.  My therapist is trying to figure out which disorder I have, but I don’t just have major depression (aka chronic depression), OCD and/or ADHD behaviors. I could also have obsessive compulsive habits, which many people have told me I do, but I would like a proper diagnosis. See, I was misdiagnosed before with chronic depression. Apparently, that is not the case.

I had an emotional day, and I’m ready to just collapse in a heap of confusion with my big yellow boy.

4-12-13 Here are some silk flowers I found at my therapist’s office

Oh, before I jump off – I found this poem on Darcy’s blog and it really describes how I feel sometimes. I sometimes have to fake it to make it.

I quite like myself
slouched over a television with a broken remote,
pale skin alive with glowing colors
at 3:33 in the morning

I think I am at my best
when I am hovered
over the kitchen sink just after dark
running hot water
over my raw fingers

I feel great
when I am sprawled across my bed
crying before I even wake up
sun pushing, unwanted,
through a dirty window

I am very happy with who I am
I say aloud in the car
all alone
while I consider driving into a tree
I am very happy with who I am