It’s 3.17am and it’s in 12 hours. I need to wake up early. I also need to take Seroquel or else I won’t sleep at all and will start scratching from withdrawal. I hope I don’t sleepwalk through the day. I hope I wake up and the nightmares I have about not making it (and of Julian Assange living in my dad’s bedroom and talking to my dog) don’t come to fruition.
I am about to have my (yearly) bath.
I have accidentally dyed my neck red.
My family are all in the bedroom and have spent the day gracefully dealing with me being a stressed arsehold and I am on my 25th cigarette.
But this time tomorrow, I will be married to the love of my life, in a lovely hotel room and probably pished as fuck.
But I want to say, now, when I am not pished, when I am nervous but not stressed….
for your support, encouragement in my recovery, loveliness, your stories, for reading and for sharing, for putting up with my wanky wedding posts (on here and on Facebook) and, through this blog, actual friendships (there are 48 people coming to our small wedding, which includes both of our families, and four of them are people I have met through this blog) and actual practical help when I have needed it, even when I haven’t asked for it.
I feel like I’m entering a new era. A married era. What will change? I have no idea, but I never thought I’d get far enough to find out. To be happy and stable and comfortable enough to confidently accept love, to confidently give it.
But this is not the end. I will continue living with this, probably for quite a long time, but I feel I can handle it. And so does he, clearly.
Here we go!
Filed under: Bipolar Disorder