I write about myself and my issues partly to explain it "outloud" to myself and partly for anyone else who wants to know. The hard part is that talking about it can still hurt. Thinking about it, remembering it, can still mess me up inside and even if I was happy all day, all week, all month, that can trigger a emotional tornado.
Poor Mom. She has this dream, this idea of writing a memoir of our experiences with my life and issues. Thus far, I have turned her down because I feel like having the dwell on that painful past so much, would pull me back down into the colorless haze of depression. If I can be torn up and depressed just from writing about it on my blog, I don't dare try to mentally recall it all because I think all the progress I have made and in every tiny way I've grown would be dismantled and I never ever want to go back, never want to go as deep into that dark place as I have before. I don't want to do things that put it at risk.

Bipolar disorder and depression are very hard to manage and control. It is so very easy to trigger an episode. It's so easy. My form of Bipolar disorder is mostly shown in being irritable to some degree, all of the time, and being very easily stressed out. Christmas is a perfect example. I couldn't wait for it to be over because the stress of it all was just making me miserable at times.
...I hate talking or writing about this, when there is that lump in my throat. I have no idea why I have been able to cry so easily of late, but some things never fail. And I don't want to cry. This is the example in action about I can be happy but how talking about this can pull me down. I don't want to be pulled down. I want to be able to talk about it without reopening the box with that pain. Why do I talk about this and then revitalize that pain? Why can't I just talk about it? Why can't I heal from this? Or why can't I figure out what to say?