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The Adventures of Layce and Jamie

Layce, you really have helped me.

Dear Layce,

I promise I'm not going to take over your diary like I did Lilah's. But I have some things I would like to say. I want you, and all your other dogster pals to know just how special you are to me.

It started back in February when I got into the car accident. It was a terrible, terrible experience that I would never want to wish on anyone. Then when I got news that the other man involved had died, something inside me changed. I didn't want to talk about it with my friends, because they didn't understand anyway. I didn't want to talk about it with my mom because she had been the one driving. I had to be the one to comfort her. It was hard to try to be the strong one when all I wanted to do was go into my room and sink into my pillow and never come out. Ever. I didn't have you then.

Ever since that night, I started acting differently. I would get so extremely angry or get into a feeling of self-hatred and depression. I'd start yelling about the most minuscule things, or sometimes I would just get this feeling that I was the most horrific, ugly, messed up person in the world, and my head would spin into a darkness that I'm surprised sometimes I could find my way out of. I didn't understand why I would get so mad or so upset. It bothered me that I would scream and hit things and get into arguments with people I loved about things that should never have escalated. It would depress me even more. It was like it was a whole other person inside me, and sometimes I would bounce right back and be the normal, happy me.

The other day, my doctor's office called to tell me that I had a new doctor, so I should come in for a routine check up to meet the new doctor so we would be acquainted. He came into the room and asked routine questions. I told him about my tension headaches. He asked about stress. I told him that I secluded myself from everything. I started doing school online, I started to stay home on the weekends. My grammy also pointed out my rash behavior. When we further explained, he asked if I had been checked for bipolar disorder. I hadn't. The thought had never crossed my mind. He gave me a questionnaire to fill out and after I did, he told me that it was a 90% chance that that could be my problem. He recommended going to see a psychiatrist in order to diagnose it. I was happy that I finally knew what was wrong and that it wasn't just ME, but I was also a little scared.

But you've been so good to me. Even when I get angry and I say that I don't want you near me. You still come and you put her head under my hand, and I can almost see "It's okay, you're going to be alright." coming straight from your eyes. I can almost hear you say it. Sometimes, I'll pick you up and just cry into your fur, and you let me. You've gotten me out again. I take you places. I know, someday, I'll be ready to go back to school. But not yet. I tell you stories that I remember of my dad sometimes. They think he was bipolar. I wish I had the chance to get to know him better. I almost feel connected to him in a way I never was before. I won't go out the way he did, I refuse. Which is why you've helped me. You've made me want to go on, when all I wanted to do was let go. You are there to show me the love I need so desperately to see sometimes. I love you, Layce. You are my godsend, my guardian angle, my baby, and my best friend. I love you.

Love,
Your mom