For the majority of my life there was really never a time in which I was alone. I grew up in a neighbourhood filled with kids that were always at my house, in my spare time I played a myriad of team sports ranging from hockey to sailing, and at school I was always surrounded by others. Even when I graduated from middle school and went to a different high school than almost everyone I knew, I still had friends that went with me. It wasn’t until my third year of high school that I truly understood what it was to be alone. I had been battling with bipolar disorder, living my life in a constant conflict consisting of corrupting crushing darkness contrasted by boundless exuberance in which you can feel the adrenaline coursing through and seeping out of you, as you process and understand the world in a way so pure, and so beautiful, that the only thing that could sully the experience is the inevitable crash and descent back into darkness. This experience, this turmoil and constant painful life pulled me away from everyone I knew, and everyone I loved. Eventually I accepted that I the life I had was no longer working for me, so under the advisement of one of my social workers I transferred to an alternative school, namely City School. …show more content…
So for the first little bit I kept my head down, I diligently did my school work but did little else. I tried to reach out to some of the people that I was friends with at my old school; but spending time with them left me feeling distressed and depressed. Their lives were such constants, the same as they had been before everything changed for me, and I hated them for it. I didn’t understand why they got to be normal but I didn’t, and in that realization I accepted that I needed to leave that piece of my life behind me; and by doing so something good came when I needed it