I AM NOT BROKEN

I am not broken. I am brilliantly complex. They tried to name me with one word, but my spirit refused small labels. I am mornings where the sun lives in my chest, ideas dancing faster than my hands can write, laughter spilling over like I’ve cracked open joy itself. And I am nights where the weight of existing feels heavier than gravity, where silence screams louder than crowds, where getting out of bed is an act of courage no one applauds. This is bipolar. Not a monster— a mirror. Because I feel deep, I love hard, I dream loud, and when I fall, I fall into truths most people never touch. They say “too much.” I say I'm too aware. Too emotional? No. I feel the world in HD. I have known chaos— but I have also known creation. Because every high taught me how to shine, and every low taught me how to survive. I am learning balance, not silence. I don’t erase my diagnosis— I integrate it. I don’t hide my mood swings— I ride them with wisdom, therapy, prayer, medication, rest, and radical self-love. This crown I wear? It was forged in fire, shaped by storms, polished by resilience. Some days I soar. Some days I crawl. Both count. Because healing isn’t linear— it’s layered. I am not my disorder, Nikki' Anita Whitehead