(Trigger Warning – Suicide, Sex & Substance Abuse)

Originally Published February 22, 2023

“You will never find anything real being fake.”

I haven’t had a stable job in years – It’s 2018, and I merely exist to use other people’s shit. I use their houses, their couches, their food, their cars, their clothes, their bathrooms, their booze, weed, and cigarettes.

I am a 29-year-old shipwreck sinking fast – jumping from bed to bed, family member to friend. I will go to anyone and everyone willing to take in my traumatic, chaotic, and lost self.

At this point in my life, I am drowning with shame, regret, and cloudy, damp confusion. I can barely look in the mirror. I have gained 80 pounds and don’t have 5$ to my name. None of my clothes fit, and I am running around in old rompers and 2nd hand-stained clothes.

I can’t shove enough shitty food, energy drinks, ibuprofen, edibles, and alcohol into my mouth. I am also chain-smoking cheap menthols and taking eight different psychiatric medications a day. I am putting so many different substances into my body that I have no idea what is doing what. I’m like an overstuffed trash can at a smelly dive bar.

My life has officially become a dangerous drinking game, which always involves me blacking out and having risky foreign sexcapades. I am a mess and messed up constantly. I spend the majority of my time trying to numb out and pass out so I can escape the hell I am living in.

Most of the time, I can barely feel my body. My head is so loud that I have to crank the music full blast and talk in a scream. I am constantly getting injured and sick, bouncing up and down from euphoric highs to suicidal lows. My brain is so insane that I can’t feel physical pain. I keep forcing things and starting new fires as the trauma oozes out of my body like goo from a scab.

It’s the end of July 2018, and I’m about to fuck up yet another friendship and my last living situation. I’m in Denver (MENver), living on a friend’s couch, sucking dick for cigarettes and shitty snacks – I have no boundaries and no goals. I am lost, depressed, and so fucking miserable.

It’s my good friend’s birthday, so they’re all headed out to the clubs. Naturally, I have no money, so I stay back. They tell me not to have any more random dudes over while they are gone—yeah, Right…

Later that night, as I am sucking on a huge, black, curved Nigerian cock, they walk in and freak out. One of the roommates starts screaming at me.

“Get the fuck out of our apartment, you lazy, fat piece of shit!”

I remove the dick from my mouth and get into my fighting position.

“Try me, you nasty fucking cunt!” I scream.

It was on–trailer park style.

She throws the first punch, and I throw one back. I knock her down, and we are rolling around on the ground, kicking, punching, and pulling each other’s hair. Our friends finally pull us apart, and she screams –

“GET THE FUCK OUT!!! NEVER COME BACK, YOU UGLY MENTAL WHORE.”

I grab my backpack and head out onto the streets of Menver. I have officially burned every bridge I have ever walked on, and now I am homeless.

“Fuck!! FUCK! Fuckity Fuck!!” I scream over and over at the top of my lungs. I look around mid-panic attack and feel like I’m in a hot oven. I am sweating profusely, wondering what I should do next. Terror is burning through my body like red pop rocks.

I suppose it is time to do what I always do: get on a dating app and find my next victim. I scroll through Tinder on my smashed Android and beg another guy to take me in and “save me.”

After about 45 minutes, I find a random dude from Turkey to fuck for food and a place to sleep. 5 nights later, I find my next rich foreign boyfriend from Sudan, who buys me a car and puts me up in an apartment on his dime.

Thanks Tinder!!

I am practically a professional sugar baby by now. I have been riding rich foreign dick for years to avoid getting a job and paying my bills. I live like an adult child with the responsibilities of a live-in prostitute. Men fly me all over the country to fuck and party. The only money I earn is from being a complete slut.

I went through these insane cycles for almost 10 years. I used everyone and everything I could to stay numb. Blacking out and getting too high to do anything became my favorite hobbies. I was pretty much unconscious from the age of 22 to 29. I barely remember anything.

I never knew my limits. I always drank way more than everyone around me, but I was too drunk to realize it. My self-awareness was non-existent. From a young age, I always felt excessive guilt. I was guilty for what I ate, for how excessive I drank, for who I slept with, and for my countless embarrassing drunk incidents.

“Why can’t I control myself?”

Is the question I asked myself over and over.

“How far am I going to take it tonight?”

It was always a mystery, depending on how much booze I poured down my throat…

I have woken up dozens of times in places I had no recollection of being at the night before. “Where the fuck am I?” I would say to myself, anxious, confused, and hungover in the bright light of dawn.

My fantasy thinking and drinking took me on the most incredible adventures and the darkest nightmares. It was always fast, exciting, and sexy, then dark, morbid, and disgusting.

I traveled around on rich men’s credit cards and pretended to be a wealthy trust funder when, in reality, I was a trailer parker. I was in my own delusional fantasy whore story.

After fucking 100xs of people, being hospitalized 10 times, and living in 15 different cities, I still denied the Bipolar diagnosis I had received 8 years prior. Of course, all the signs were there – My hypersexuality, the excessive drinking, my extreme highs and lows, my loud, energetic vibe, my lack of impulse control, my insomnia, and my excessive binge smoking and sleeping.

But I denied it and refused to believe it. If I didn’t admit I had it, maybe it would disappear… I couldn’t accept the fact that I was stuck with a lifelong mental illness that was trying to kill me on the daily. I truly believed it was a character flaw I could change if I “worked hard enough” or exercised like a maniac.

My whole life had become a sick obsession with proving that I didn’t have Bipolar Disorder. (When I obviously did.) I constantly reinvented myself and chose different diagnoses. I would go from PTSD to ADHD to insanity. I always went to new doctors, so they would tell me what I wanted to hear…And what I wanted to hear was that I did not have Bipolar Disorder.

After years of struggling and suffering, I didn’t want to live, but I didn’t want to kill myself either. Deep down, I knew that if I didn’t make a change soon, I was going to end up dead – Either from suicide or a drunk accident.

I was in that uncomfortable in-between place, wondering if I could make something of my sad life after falling so far from the bright star I had once been. I wasn’t jealous of others; I was envious of who I used to be, and I had no idea how to find my way back to myself.

Cumming Out as Bipolar came in waves of radical acceptance, followed by deep denial and resistance. Multiple times, I pretended and believed that I had outgrown Bipolar Disorder, when in reality I was living a lie that was tearing me up inside.

I finally realized that through all of this, I only wanted to be loved and accepted for who I truly am. That’s why, for a decade, I wandered around the country drunk, high, and alone, screaming somebody Please Love Me! Please!! PLEASE Love me!

& Guess What?

The person I was searching for was me. I needed to love myself.

The only person that could save me was looking back at me in the mirror. And now, 4 years later, after a tremendous amount of self-work, therapy, self-discovery, proper medication, multiple healing modalities, and sobriety practice, I do.

For the 1st time ever, I love myself fully and accept myself for who I am, Bipolar and all. I have never been happier, prouder, and more grateful to be me.

My name is Leeanna, and I am a bipolar badass & I have finally made peace with my bipolar beast.

Thank You For Reading My 1st Blog Post!!

More To Cummm…..

– Always Remember – Your past does not determine your future! You can change your life at any time. Every single day, you have the power to make new choices. Don’t like your life? Make a new choice. The power of choice saved my life.

(To all my old friends, boyfriends, family members, hookups, and strangers who were kind to me and helped me during my darkest days, I want to thank you! I appreciate what you’ve done for me and wish you nothing but the best.)