The worst thing about being bipolar or mentally ill in any way is that any time you’re legitimately sad - any time you’re truly angry and with good and clear reason, you will be told that you are only feeling as you are because of your illness. Every time your boyfriend is being an ass, and you call him on it, this is what you will hear, so get used to it: “have you been taking your medication?” A life of non-credibility, even amongst those you love. This is what you face. Especially amongst those you love, for they think they know you. It is the eternal equivalent of being asked if it’s your “time of the month” every time you get upset. If this doesn’t make you want to kill yourself, I don’t know what will.
AUTUMN, Emilie. The Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls. —