My mood swings give me whiplash!

I think that the hardest aspect of having bipolar is not knowing when it will hit and being completely blindsided when it does. Right now it is too soon to know exactly which way I am going to go or even if it will be both. I do know that it is 1:30 in the morning and for some reason I felt it necessary to start writing about everything that I need to get out. I am a 33 year old recovering addict, recovering anorexic (sometimes), and I am trying to recover my shattered life. It's been said that when a person stops using drugs, they have the emotional intelligence of whatever age they started using....I guess that makes me about 12 or 13. I wonder though if childhood and even adulthood trauma changes that. Having survived and endured the horrors of my life should make me stronger...right? I suppose though that mental illness does bring it down. In recovery its all about living just for today, forgiving, making all our wrongs right, and letting go. I try and I try and I try some more. I get it right for a while but then I slip further than where I started. Right now, I have everything I could ever ask for and more. I have a wonderful husband who I love, who loves me for who I am and not the things I've done. I am 2 terms away from getting an Associate's degree in what I love doing. I have a seat on the student government and am the chair for one committee and part of another. I have been clean since February 2, 2009, I work the steps, I go to meetings, I call my sponsor, and I give back (perhaps too much at times). For the most part I am happy....most of the time. Then there are days, like today when I study every piece of broken glass on the sidewalk. Mornings when I wake up remembering those I've lost, like this morning. Times when I have to force myself to move, to go to meetings, to do schoolwork, to play online, to smile, and to breathe. Perhaps somewhere deep inside I know that I don't deserve the good shit I have. With all the horrible things I've done to stay high, to hurt people, to push people away, and to get what I wanted....karma is sure to take all my happiness away. Karma has taken so much already.....my childhood, my innocense, my mother, everyone I have ever loved or cared about, and my sanity. I don't want to be bipolar, who does? But I had plans when I chose to get off drugs, I was going to be normal. Now here I am stuck inside my head that is racing to fast for me to keep up and having to take more drugs that don't even work to supposedly level me out. How could anyone stand to be around me? I can't even stand myself. This isn't who I planned to be when I was younger....I was going to graduate from high school, go to UCLA, get a recording contract, fall in love, have a beautiful house, have lots of children, win a Grammy, and spend the rest of my life seeing the world. Where did I go wrong? I suppose my first memory of what went wrong was at about 4 years old. I woke up one night to a party and when I peeked my head out of my bedroom I saw my parents and their friends sitting around the table shooting up. Later that night I was awakened again to my mother screaming. I found her beating on my dad's chest because he had taken too much, the needle was still in his arm. The trauma continued as my dad began beating my mom up everytime he drank and my dad stopping loving me the moment my sister was born. By the age of 12, I began drinking, by 13 I was smoking pot, and by 14 I was experimenting with cocaine and LSD. I was in a group home from the age of 13 til I was 16 (when I assulted a house parents), but everyother weekend I went home and while I was there I did whatever and whoever I wanted. At 16, I was abused by my mom's boyfriend which happened off and on (whenever I missed my mom too much and went back), until I was 19. When I was 17, I found my escape which turned out to be my poison, Meth. From then on I was hooked, sure there were a few breaks at first, like when I ended up in a Psych hospital for almost blowing my head off or when I moved away....but this state is like a magnet and I always got pulled back to it and back to the meth. By the time I was 22 my using became an every event and not long after that I began shooting up. I found out that I could have a neverending supply if I became the dealer's girlfriend, so I did. When that dealer went away I found another, and another, and another. In 2003 I lost a girl that I loved more than I have ever loved before in a tragic shooting with police, after that all I wanted was death and I used as if death was what I wanted. Then I almost got it, I got sick, passed out, and woke up in a hospital and told I almost died. I got scared...and since then I have been working at getting and staying clean...this is my second attempt. I hope it is my last, as in I never use again, because I honestly don't believe that I have another attempt in me. Ok so here is the delima, I stopped using drugs to feel again, to be normal, and to not die.....ok so here I sit stuck in the worst feelings possible, not anywhere close to normal (more like seriously fucked up), and although I won't kill myself, my thoughts go to wishing I was dead. I keep some pieces of glass in a hiding spot, I have never used them (besides I self harm a different way) but I often think of my little shinys and I wonder if just cutting a little would help. Ok...I am kind of over this blogging thing for the night...Sweet dreams world!