Happy World Bipolar Day!
”There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. ” — Van Gogh
Today is World Bipolar Day!
So what does that mean?
*Trigger warning: suicide*
(Further resources at the bottom).
Surprise! I have Bipolar Disorder and find it crucial to speak out about it to help end the silence and reduce the stigma. But this took some time. Despite the popular prevalence of Bipolar Disorder worldwide, it is still highly stigmatized and rarely talked about. In popular media it is more often than not misrepresented, striking fear in those unaffected and alienating those who are. In the United States alone, 2.6% or 6.3 million people have been diagnosed with BD (NIMH). This number does not reflect the number of people actually suffering from the disease as many people are left undiagnosed and untreated. Bipolar Disorder is defined as a mental health condition that causes extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression) (Mayo Clinic). These mood swings can affect sleep, energy, activity, judgment, behavior, the ability to think clearly and overall quality of life. Whether you try to treat your illness with psychotherapy and medication or continue living without any further help, Bipolar Disorder is a lifelong sentence. It is an invisible but very real disability. When I was growing up, I knew something was “wrong” with me. Or at least different. Sometimes I was not able to attain the same elation at certain celebratory events while I would also rush face first into questionable, erratic and impulsive decisions. My depression was more visible to me because I could feel it in my body, my pockets being weighed down by heavy stones of unknown, unsorted emotions. My mania emerged as a counterweight; I could suddenly do everything all at once. It felt like a superpower and I considered it my normal. Sleepless nights just meant I had better essays to turn in the next day, racing thoughts showed teachers and peers that I was on top of the game and could brainstorm any idea. I partied with reckless abandon and entertained whatever guy was present to have his way with me.
But my depression gripped tighter to my body and brain, holding me hostage in my own bed and alone with intrusive and disturbing thoughts in my head. It was physically apparent. I remember so clearly feeling profoundly lost and helpless that I went into my teacher’s office and told him I had not finished my assignment because I did not think I would be alive the day it was due. To this day I do not understand how this did not send up all of the red flags but he countered by saying something regarding my recent successes in my multiple extracurriculars and that I could turn the assignment in the next day. I was silently screaming for help but all I heard from everyone was “hush.” My mania, which allowed me to participate in too many extra activities and was veiling my deep depression. I felt invisible and unheard. I barely graduated due to a very long and intense depressive episode that left me with unfinished work and not enough energy or willpower to complete any of it. I was suicidal and no matter how many people I told that I thought I should be dead, everyone carried on with their days, not addressing my cries. I did graduate though, with the help of some mercy from teachers who had seen me out perform entire classes before I had this major setback. And when graduation rolled around, I had swung back into my mania, ready to take on any task and participate in all of the parties. Despite my outward glee, inside I struggled with a tumultuous strife that strangled me. I never know when the darkness might return. I could not figure out who I was. I was young and had a future life too promising to be drowning, yet I could not breathe.
I was not able to recognize the duality of my extreme behaviors and simultaneous mood shifts until I moved away from home and started seeing a new therapist. Within the first few weeks she diagnosed me with Bipolar I Disorder with Rapid Cycling (meaning I could go through my mood swings far more often than your average Bipolar person). The evidence was everywhere. She laid out every instance in which I had presented my different mood swings like a mental health detective. As a budding psychology student at the time, I had already become somewhat familiar with what this meant and when she said it out loud, it felt like a lock that had found the right key. This label alone did not fix things, in fact it raised more questions. But it was a starting point. I had only been treated for my depression but now seeing all of my behaviors categorized, the world started to make sense. My actions were caused by something bigger than just being an impetuous or irresponsible teenager or young adult. I was sick and I needed help. I feel lucky that I was so accepting of this diagnosis and willing to try new treatments. This is not the case for everyone. Because of how Bipolar Disorder is represented in popular culture, it is not uncommon for people to shy away from their possible diagnosis and subsequent treatment. It seems scary and that is probably because in reality, it is scary. Taking medicines you know relatively nothing about with side effects that seem terrible while regularly talking to a stranger about what is happening in your life is no cake walk. It takes patience and perseverance. Having been told I had Bipolar I Disorder was not something I wanted to shout from the rooftops or even tell my friends. But I finally had an explanation.
I felt ashamed at first and could not help but question, “Why me?” The reality is shame comes from within and “why me?” can’t really be answered. At least not yet. There is not enough research surrounding the disease to determine whether it's genetic, environmental or just by chance. The fact that we don’t know where it comes from is beyond frustrating. It still makes me question if we don’t know that, how are we supposed to know where to go, what to do next? But I’m trusting the process because that is all I feel like I can do.
It’s been exactly a decade now from my initial Bipolar diagnosis and I have developed and discovered more co-morbid mental health disorders that I wrestle with. But within this time, I have come to love who I am within the world of mental illness because I have no choice but to accept my reality. It is my only frame of reference. Bipolar Disorder is a lifelong sentence and I have to diligently work on myself, maintain my treatment plan and take inventory on how I can be a healthier individual. Having Bipolar Disorder is not an excuse for my outrageous behaviors or extraneous absences but rather a pushing-off point for a conversation regarding what’s happening with me and what I can do about it. There have been weeks where I do not sleep at all, where I have driven across the country from Colorado to New York without making a pitstop, where I have recklessly spent absurd amounts of money on anything ranging including shoes, random technology and endless amounts of takeout food. There have been times where I’m unable to and do not eat anything at all, turning the heads of whomever I’m around. There have been weeks where I remain glued in bed, hiring dog walkers to help me take care of my dog while I suffer and cry over nothing worthwhile. I have ruined relationships with my abrasive, manic personality or with my apathetic, depressed lack of personhood. My sex drive has gone from not wanting to be touched by someone who cares about me to reaching out to random men in the middle of the night hoping they will do whatever they want to me instead. I have made myself proud by acclaiming many achievements and I’ve never felt so much shame over times I danced with failure. Life has truly been a roller coaster, until this past year.
Ten years in, four psychiatrists later and I finally have the right mix of everything. My psychiatrist is a wonderful woman who listens to me and has been able to find the right mixture of medication that somehow makes me function like a neurotypical adult. The difference in my mood is astounding. I no longer swing from tree to tree like a mentally ill Tarzan but rather I am able to sit soundly with my thoughts and feelings, processing them without extremes fogging up my future. I have not had a real Bipolar mood swing in months and it is both shocking and extremely welcomed. I feel beyond grateful for this happenstance because it took a lot of hard work to get to this place and it still takes a lot of hard work to maintain it. But I do not dread the maintenance, I celebrate it. I celebrate myself knowing that this disease has had a grip on me for my entire adult life and I’m finally allowed to start living it.
In the United States, Bipolar Disease has a 1 in 5 suicide rate and I have towed the line of becoming part of that statistic many times. Various hospitalizations and inpatient interventions have helped but they do not stop the underlying illness. I’ll say it again, BD is an invisible disability. It is a mental health issue that most people are too afraid to talk about. If we are unable to talk about it, how the hell are we going to make any progress on accepting it, on helping those who hurt, on creating a world in which it is alright to be different especially when you are not alone in your fight? A few years into being diagnosed, I decided it was time to start speaking up. I’m not a hero in the least. Rather, I feel blessed enough to have found the courage to put the stigma and judgment and possible repercussions from speaking out could cause behind me and embrace the truth of who I am, what I have and what I demand needs to be changed. I share my story in hopes of progress. It is World Bipolar Day! It is a day of awareness, education, communication, camaraderie and hope. It is a day for voices to be heard, for people to finally be understood and for shredding the stigma that hurts everyone, not just those affected by mental health issues. Mental health involves all of us, so let’s be better. Let us learn from those who are different from us, in all aspects.
Someone I love once said, “Maybe it's the madness that makes us who we are.” And I think they are right. Maybe each of us have an untangled mess that facilitates being who you are in this complicated and alienating world. Let us embrace the madness and embrace each other. Happy World Bipolar Day!
”There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. ” — Van Gogh
Resources:
International Bipolar Foundation — https://ibpf.org/
National Alliance on Mental Health — https://www.nami.org/Home
National Institute on Mental Health — https://www.nimh.nih.gov/
Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance — https://www.dbsalliance.org/
Rethink Mental Illness — https://www.rethink.org/
24 Hour Talk Line — 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
24 Hour Crisis Text Line — Text MHA to 741741