I don’t believe in coincidences as a general rule. Oh sure, there are some, but some things just cannot be coincidental when the events are so finely and intricately woven together that if one strand had gone awry, the entire picture would be different.

Take my life, my bipolar story. When I was diagnosed I could have picked many different paths, I could have listened to the professionals who told me in veiled terms that life as I knew it was over, and that things would never be the same. I could have rolled over, gone on disability, gotten numb and medicated as so many do, and I would have been justified. I could have been dependent on meds, and therapists, and psychiatrists, and psychotherapists, and cognitive behavior specialists, etc, etc.

But coincidentally, or not, my grandmother saw an article in a paper about a girl who lived sucessfully with bipolar, med free no less, and shared that story with me. I was already tired of the meds, after just one endless year of being droned, muted and vanilla’d out of my usually vibrant personality. (I know, most bipolars think they are magnificent without meds, but some really are worse on medication).

I wish that I had a copy of that newspaper article today. I did not know then that a black and white piece of newspaper would be the catalyst that would propel me into a life full of color. That miracle treatment mentioned in the article led to my cure, and my continued search to find other natural cures for bipolar disorder. I have been able to share my story with dozens of people afflicted with the same diagnosis of Bipolar, and it will be the same treatment that eventually gives me the courage to tell my story to thousands.


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