NO MATTER WHO GIVES UP ON YOU, NEVER GIVE UP ON YOURSELF.
My untreated Bipolar Disorder took me to lows I never imagined I could reach. Social stigma and the perception that I was an “undesirable” left me marginalized and ostracized. Our “winner take all, kick the vulnerable when they’re down” system nearly eradicated me.
Yet with the resilience of the Viet Cong, I stayed functional in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. But despite my Herculean efforts -pulling myself up by my boot straps, despite my feet being bare, there were times when everyone gave up on me.
In those dark periods, all I had was the tiny spark within my spirit that could not quite be quite extinguished by the tortuous existence Bipolar and me had carved out for myself. Or by the rip tide of “survival of the fittest” that very nearly dragged me to a horrific drowning in the greed, apathy, and ignorance of our culture, where “every man for himself” is a foundation stone.
BUT, despite my lack of awareness, I also had the Higher Power of my understanding, who invariably placed a human angel in my path just in the nick of time to rekindle my waning spark into a glowing ember, nurture it into a flickering flame, and, eventually, stoke it into the roaring blaze that meant a zest and passion for life that had nearly been annihilated by my choices, disease and a society in which we have been inculcated not to give a fuck.