This is a hard thing for me to write about, because I feel the guilt of all the times I broke my commitments because of depression.
My enthusiasm (and hypomania) would carry me into trying to do something but the depression would keep me from following up. I overcommitted, I underperformed.
It took the medication for me to see who I wanted to be. I don’t over-commit these days, knowing that the only thing that keeps me from mood swings is a precarious balance of medication. But I do commit — to my job, to my marriage, to the things I believe in.
Commitment defines me. I am not just what I embrace, but what I follow through on.
Words Like Me 