Control

So yesterday, I got some pretty bad news. I mean, I know it was coming, sort of. My shrink gave me 6 clinical tests, and the conclusion was, I'm "hypo-manic bi-polar II". My shrink sat me down and told me that this was super serious. I had, just minutes before told him that I felt like there was something, 'fundamentally wrong' with me. He told me there was. That I have an incurable disease, for which the treatment doesn't really exist. That I will always battle with it, the more episodes I have, the more I will continue to have. And that no matter how big my ego is, I can never, ever think I've beat it. Or controlled it. I'm going to need drugs for the rest of my life. Forever. I know it's nothing like being told you only have a short time to live, but I looked back at my life and all the bad choices and the slightly okay choices I have made, and they now make blatant sense. I started psychotherapy because I wanted control back. Yet, I will never have it.