Trust.
T.
R.
U.
S.
T.

It’s this simple, five letter word which holds so much meaning. You lose it, you gain it, you break it and you restore it. Trust is a very resilient ideal.

When you are bipolar, riddled with an anxiety disorder, trust becomes a battleground. Who to tell, who to lean on, and yes, who to trust. I shall even take it a step further. What happens when the person you cannot trust is yourself?

The line is blurred. I question the most basic fundamentals in my life. I procrastinate major decisions to ensure my mood and thoughts are stable and consistent to minimize my own collateral damage. My greatest fear is acting impulsively to the detriment of my own happiness. I’m in this perfect circle, drawn around me. I can step out at any time. Yet, as I view my metaphorical chalk outline, I’m frozen in place. If a piece of your life no longer serves its purpose, at what point do you walk away? The illness wants to take hold while the rational portion of my mind staves it off.

I have changes to make. They are a long time coming. However, where do I begin and the illness end? I stand stationary, rooted to this very spot in both space and time. Tonight I choose to trust myself again. I may stand here a day more, a year more… But my choice will stem from listening to my own inner voice. For so long, I felt fear.  Now, I take a deep breath and fight for control of my thoughts. This illness will not best me. It will not beat me.

You can trust me on that.