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Letter to a friend

I'm okay. It's really weird being "off sick" when I am walking and talking and supposed to go to the gym and "carry on".

I feel so bad about having to leave work - I know it's crazy and G will either sink or swim. I'm pretty sure L's pissed, but from a supervisor point of view I can understand that.

I had a really rough time in December, M. I kept saying I had to be there because G was gone, but I was wrong and should NOT have been there. I needed to be at home and away from everyone to deal with my fucking medication demons in private.

I came close to not being here again - but I chose to speak up and say what I was feeling rather than not being here. Good choice, so far.

I am rapid cycling right now and just really don't want to share that with the people at work, or anyone for that matter.

I fucking hate having a chronic illness that incapacitate's me once or twice yearly - ESPECIALLY because people can't associate it with being ill and so don't understand and are uncomfortable. Most times I'll get told "I have a friend who sees this therapist ..."

I'm getting worse with age and when the bouts come they're more severe each time. It doesn't matter that I do absolutely everything right - it still happens and it will continue to happen. Each time it takes longer and longer to get up from the beating wreaked on me.

How long should someone have to do this? If it was cancer and I was in and out of remission twice a year, and I was emaciated and suffering between short glimpses of hope - no one would fault me "giving up".

No I am not going to off myself.

toodles

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