Jumping Off!

Well, here I go!   I never thought that I would be writing a blog.   And I may completely suck at it, so I may not be doing it very long.   We will see, and I am sure you will let me know!  
This really is a jumping off point for me, and is the culmination of a long, long struggle.   My struggle with bipolar disorder.  
At first, it was a struggle to get a diagnosis.  I felt so confused, so afraid, and so very lost.  My mind seemed like a never ending jumble.  It was like someone scrambled my brain but at the same time it seemed like I was so powerful and so brilliant.   I could almost feel colors, I felt this amazing clarity, and I had such a powerful torrent of ideas and dreams.  But at the same time, people were following me and filming me and I was afraid.    I wanted to connect with my friends and my family, but I only ended up isolating them.  It was like some weird movie where you are trying to run toward someone, but they still seem to always be so far away from you, even though you have been running for days and days.  I remember feeling so alone and confused and terrified all at once.  In some ways, my diagnosis was a relief.  At least there was a name for what had been going on with me.  But in other ways, this diagnosis became a label and then an identity that stole away my hopes and dreams.
This identity crisis was my next struggle.  For awhile, I just gave up.  I felt nothing.  I stared at the wall and thought about how much I sucked.   And how crappy life was.  I watched the minutes tick by, yet each day was fuzzy.  Endless and fast all at once.   Each minute was agony on some days, especially those days when I wanted to die.  I lived in this hopeless limbo for several years, not knowing what to do with myself.  Feeling like I was on the edge of life and staring into a deep dark pit of nothingness.   Waiting to jump.   To just have an end to the pain.
Gradually, those endless days became less and less.  I began to find things that I enjoyed again.   I learned to smile again.   I got to the point where I was willing to start a journey to 'find me' again.  Where did I go?  What was me and what was bipolar?  Did I even exist anymore?  I wasn't sure of the answer to this, so I just put it away.  I didn't really think about it.  I just wanted to distance myself from bipolar.   I got back into the flow of life at this point.  I got a job.   I learned to sew.  I learned to snowshoe.  I began to play around with photography.   Somehow, doing those things helped me.  A small seed of hope began to grow inside of me.   Thoughts of 'maybe there is more than bipolar' began to root themselves in my mind and my soul.
I began a lot of serious recovery work at this point, but it didn't center around bipolar.   I attended Al-Anon groups to get rid of my caretaking tendencies.   I learned to show up for life each day, even if I woke up feeling like I wanted to die.   Mania was still hard to manage, so I just took 'mental health days' sometimes when I needed to regain my footing, or to help me manage the changes in medication dosages.  I read many books, tried many religions, searched and searched for some kind of answer.  But I still hid my bipolar.   I still hated it.  I still hated myself for having it.  I didn't want it to rule my life.  I didn't want it to be 'who I was'.  At this point, I wasn't lost in a sea of symptoms, yet it somehow still ruled my life.   But how could it?   How could it exist when I denied it?  How could it exist when I resisted it?   How could it exist when I fought against it with every fiber of my being?
I lived with this hateful indifference for many years.   Yes, I was stable.  Only minor highs and semi deep lows.  But I was stuck.   Then one day, a miracle happened.   I was offered a job.   I couldn't have created this job in a million years.  I couldn't even really fathom this job at all.   I became a peer support specialist.   I work every day to share my struggles and successes with other people who have mental illness.  In doing this job, I actually had to ADMIT that I have bipolar.   I had to tell people.  Every day.   By doing this, I guess I also told myself.  And now I am in a very new place in my relationship to bipolar.   I accept it.  Hell, I embrace it!   It is no longer this huge beast that I drag with me everywhere I go, yet try to ignore.    Bipolar has given me many opportunities for growth and empathy, and it started me on a spiritual journey.   I have learned to use many wellness tools.   I have coping skills.   I look at my motivation and my behavior.   This crisis became my lotus.   Beauty came out of chaos.  
I no longer struggle so much with bipolar, but sometimes those old feelings come back around when I see a commercial portraying a 'crazy' person, or I see a news report about some 'lunatic' killing people.  Or when I watch a crime drama, and they are looking for the 'unsub' with bipolar at the group home.   I still have stigma within myself.   I want to change this perception of mental illness, in myself and within society.    I want to change minds.    I want to have a conversation about stigma.  How do we bring mental illness out of the shadows?  How do I become a voice for change?  
I am a firm believer that what you feed grows.    I don't want to fight stigma, I want to embrace strengths.    I want to share and show an example of beauty, faith, wellness and spirituality.  But how?  That is what I hope to do with this blog.   Is there anyone else out there who feels this way?