Epilogue. Mental Breakup

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I got pregnant.

It was a nonviable pregnancy that needed to be aborted.

A few days later, Eli left me while I was still bleeding out our unborn child. He didn’t want to have bipolar babies.

The breakup was civil and quick. I packed two suitcases and left on the same day, back to my mom’s. Of course, she was delighted to have me back home. 

It took me a few days to completely move out. It took me a couple of weeks to understand that it was over and we shouldn’t see each other anymore. It took me a couple of months to fully get over it.

I quit smoking up just as abruptly as I quit loving Eli.

And just like that, my moods magically started to lift up. Week after week, I got better at managing my moods, reading book after book to better understand my illness, sticking faithfully to the med regimen imposed by my doc, and going systematically to talk therapy.

The hard work paid off. 

I started to feel better on most levels.

My heart had mended, though I couldn’t see myself falling in love any time soon.

My mind was not foggy anymore; I could now work and think as clearly as day.

It was good that we broke up. I never would have adequately healed had we stayed together. His moods would have always brought me down, and his habits would have negated all the benefits of my medical treatment.

I am better without him, healthier, happier, and stronger. 

And so begins my journey toward mental stability.

In the next post, I’ll talk more about my story about bipolarity and hopefully start exploring the various topics dear to my heart.

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