I owe you an update. Grab a beer, it's a long one.

...Wow, I haven't posted in almost a year. That's pretty hard to believe.

Sorry to leave you with such a cliffhanger. HOSPITAL! COURT! LIVING IN A HOTEL! Sounds like a bad episode of Passions, doesn't it? Alas, it was actually my life about a year ago. The joys of bipolar disorder. Heavy sarcasm inserted there.

Geez, you know what? I really have no clue where to start. How about where I left off?

Ok, court was December 17th... well, it was supposed to be. George Bush came to the town where I had court, so they postponed the hearing on assault charges for THREE MONTHS. I had been up every night having panic attacks about the trial, and then they told me I'd have to wait another three months. I was unable to spend Christmas with my family. My dad's side of the family was gathering in Florida at my grandparents house, and although I was invited, I couldn't bring myself to go.

I was still far to angry with my mother. About a month previously (a week before the angry exchange that resulted in the assault charges) I had been arguing with my mother, who was heavy into the throws of menapausal mood swings at that time and is quite intense to begin with. At one point in the argument she stormed out and got in the car, and i went out and got in the passenger seat and refused to get out of the car until she talked to me. She proceeded to turn in her seat and then she kicked me, repeatedly. I didn't fight back, and my dad watched from the garage door, doing nothing to stop her. I got out and told her I was moving out and never living with her again, and closed the door. The next week I came back with a friend, hoping to get some of my belongings and that's when I bumped into my Dad on my way out of the door and drove off. My parents called the police and told them I assaulted him so that they would stop me and arrest me and put me in the hospital for treatment. I was riding with a friend who didn't really know about the bipolar stuff when we got pulled over by a sheriff, who took me off in handcuffs, told me my father was getting a restraining order on me, and then took me to the hospital and had me involuntarily admitted to the hospital. After 3 days I was released.

I had stayed briefly with a high school friend who had a drinking and drug problem that caused her to go off on screaming rants over nothing. Combine that with my already manic state and we had a definite volatile situation. I certainly couldn't go live at home after getting out of the hospital, and didn't feel comfortable going back to live with my friend. In desperation I went to the hotel where I used to work as a lifeguard and got a room for the night. I made friends with the manager quickly, who I learned had a boyfriend who was bipolar and dying of AIDS and empathized with my troubles. We made a deal that if I did a painting for her of them together she would let me stay there in the hotel free of charge until my family and friends situation (and my mental state, of course) calmed down. She is an incredible person. I still haven't finished the painting, and I feel horribly, but we talk regularly and I hope to finish it soon. Her boyfriend died of AIDS just 3 days before my court hearing on December 17th. Needless to say, a very emotional time.

Ok, back to Christmas. I had moved into an apartment with a friend of a friend by that point, and planned to stay there alone while my family went to Florida for Christmas. My Dad felt horrible about everything that had happened and stayed behind for Xmas day and we spent the day together and he flew to Florida the next day. It was the saddest Christmas of my life, although it did mean a lot to have him there. I'm actually tearing up as I type about it.

Anyway, to speed up the story, I was pretty depressed for a little while and struggled to find a job. It was a very dark time for me, life seemed quite bleak. I had scared many of my closest friends with my manic behavior in the fall, and many of them refused to speak to me. I tried to go out a few times, but always came home in tears after awkward run-ins with friends that included strange hesitant hugs and overheard whisperings about me between friends.

I had to go to a local healthcare center for the homeless/unemployed to get treatment for my bipolar disorder, since I didn't have insurance. It was extremely uncomfortable to walk in to that building, as it was within view of the dorm I had lived in a few years before while attending college. It felt like it was a million miles away from that lifestyle. The upside is that I was on medication, and I was getting through the days.

I applied to a job at a local printshop at the beginning of March and got it, despite still feeling pretty down and unsure of myself. A week after starting training, on March 17th, I had to go to court for my trial about my assault charges with my Dad. I sat silently and listened to my public defender ask my dad and the police officer about my mental state five months previously. It seemed as though they were describing someone else, not me. Who WAS that person? My stomach was in knots, and I can think of few times when my self esteem has plummetted to such depths as it did there in that courtroom.

Thankfully, the charges were dropped, and I was told that my arrest would not be on my permanent record. My public defender told me I seemed like a completely different person than the one that she had met back in December, which I'm sure she meant as a compliment, but didn't feel that way to me. To me it solidified my total discomfort with myself and the scary thought that I really had no idea who I was. I thanked her anyway and faked a smile. It was a a beautiful day, and when my Dad and I walked outside and started down the courthouse steps I couldn't help it as I started crying. It was a silent cry... just my eyes completely overflowing with tears as I bit my lip and walked to the car. My dad gave me a quick awkward hug, and then drove me back to my apartment. We had Sonic on the way- a strange drive-thru consolation lunch.

Life has been relatively uneventful since, which I'm sure to most would seem a relief. In many ways it is, since a lack of drama is a luxury not always afforded to those with bipolar disorder.

I'm still working the same job, and I now have legitimate health insurance in my own name and don't have to walk into the homeless health center anymore. I'm paying my own rent and bills... barely, but I'm squeaking by.

I've even rebuilt many of the friendships that crumbled during the turmoil last year. I go out fairly regularly and am greeted by smiles and sincere hugs instead of awkwardness, which feels really good. Either most people have forgotten or have forgiven me, because last fall is never discussed. Just the typical things- who's buying the next round of beer, what girl's butt is too big for those pants, and whether we ought to try a different bar for once. Trivial, yes, but much preferred to the serious issues I was facing a year ago.

I really want to apply to better jobs that are better suited to my degree and skill level, but I'm scared. I'm scared that my good friend BPD is going to rear its ugly head again, and my world will come crashing down. I'm afraid to aim high, lest it be that much more devastating when it all falls apart.

I know that sounds grim, but thats what crosses my mind when I think about a better job.

I haven't had a boyfriend since my ex... almost 2 years ago now. We're friends now, which is great, because he knows me better than pretty much anyone.

I've talked to a few guys, but it never develops into anything. I'm always terrified to get in too deep and then get rejected once the wonderful bipolar issue presents itself. Someone will love me anyway, right?

I sure hope so.

Anyway, I know that was painfully long, and chronologically it was a little mixed up at times, but I felt I owed whatever readers I may have had in the past and present an explanation.

Life marches on, and for now, the road appears pothole-free. I'm crossing my fingers that it will stay that way.

Wish me luck readers.