Being BiPolar...

In 1993 I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had been symptomatic most of my life in someway. When I was around 10 years old, I started coping with stress by cutting my arms. When I got bullied at school, I had asthma attacks...most likely psychosomatic that kept me at home for the majority of the time. When I was 17, in my Junior year, I ended up quitting school and getting my GED. And by the way, that bullying never goes away. I always have a fear of being around new people, for fear that they will make fun of me, or that I will not fit in.

I knew I couldn't handle going to college, especially since I couldn't handle holding onto a job, so I started following rock bands around the country with friends. At first it was Slaughter, then Firehouse, and then Skid Row. I had fun (and no, I didn't sleep with any of the band members - preferring respect and integrity instead). They actually helped me with my self-esteem. The first time I met Slaughter, I had awful self-esteem. In fact, I actually thought that none of them would talk to me because I was overweight. When Tim Kelly came out and actually had a full conversation with me, I was shocked. Everyone in the band was like that, but Tim was the first. And the same was true with Firehouse and Skid Row. And I made LOTS of friends through music.

So when did things get REALLY bad for me? I decided to move away to Arizona. I moved in with a friend that had been a pen pal. I was not ready to move that far away from my Mom, and I felt lost. I didn't want to step on anyone's toes. My depression had started before I moved (in fact, I thought moving would change everything). After about a month, I wanted to kill myself...definitely suicidal. And I had it all planned out. Somehow Mom got me home safely. About a week or so later, she realized how bad things were, and called a Crisis Center in the county.

We discovered in our county that there was a lot of support for mental illness, and that if you couldn't pay, you'd still get treated. Wish we had known about that before, but God decided that wasn't in my plans. I started a long journey (that I'm still on). I was put on prozac - and many other medications. One of the hard things about mental illness is that it's hard to get the correct drug that works. And even when you hit that drug, it is not going to control the depression 100%, or it simply becomes ineffective.

I also attended an outpatient program, where I learned to control the cutting, skills that I would need in life, was able to get on disability, and met people who were like me. That was a year long. After that, I entered a job program, and an independent living program. After completing these two programs, I was able to eventually get my own apartment for four years, and I found a job as a vet assistant, a job that I also kept for four years. Since then, I've gone through many psychiatrists (some bad, some excellent), and medications (some good, some bad).

So what is it like to be bipolar for me? Even when things are going alright in my opinion I still do things that are a part of it. I stay in...don't like leaving the house very often. Usually concerts will get me out, a trip to the beach, time with friends, etc. And I volunteer for a reptile group as Secretary (yes, I have reptiles). However, if I had my way, I would not leave the house. If Mom is not home, I will run and hide if I see someone come to the door, turn the TV volume down, and the light as low as I can get it. Usually I just go in my room. And I DON'T like answering the phone...or making phone calls. If Mom isn't home, everything goes to voicemail. I don't even have a phone in my room currently.

If it gets to where there are too many things planned, or things stack up on me, I stress out. When I stress out, I shut down and stay inside, pace, stay in bed and basically have a panic attack. Even if the things that are planned are fun. In September of 2011, I had 4 concerts planned...all within a week. And I had been extremely depressed since July. Too me, this was just too much for me to do. I started obsessing about it and how I was going to do it. Tickets were paid for so I had to go, and I got through it, but it took a lot out of me. The hardest part is that friends that don't understand tell me that what I've got planned is stuff that is fun. I LOVE going to concerts. But I get paranoid and anxious about events beforehand. I'm also notorious for cancelling appointments as well. 

Most of the time, I wake up everyday thinking that things in life would be so much better for my family and friends if I was never born...or died when I was a baby (I was born with a heart defect). And that thought is ALWAYS in the back of my mind. When I lived in Illinois, I was able to work without it affecting my health benefits. But Florida has different policies and I can't get a job. I moved down here with two job offers. This gives me plenty of time at home. I have strange sleeping hours. Sometimes I stay up all night, sometimes I go to bed early and get up early. No matter if I sleep all night, I take long naps, and of course, if I'm up all night, I sleep all day. My doctor tried changing my circadian (sleep) rhythm and played with my meds. That ended up in me getting two hours of sleep a night. The computer is my lifeline to the outside world.

By the way, I learned to channel my cutting into doing something else that occupies my mind. Whether that is reading, journaling, listening to music (Bon Jovi is my absolute perfect pick me up band). Not that I don't still cut, because every once in awhile I do.

When I'm depressed, I'm apathetic, easily irritated, sleepy, and as a friend calls me, a "Negative Nelly". And I've shut down where I don't want to go anywhere. And there is no rhyme or reason for my depressive episodes. I don't see a "manic" side to me, but my Mom thinks that my manic episodes are when I start liking something (Bulls basketball, NASCAR or a band), and get OBSESSED with it. Having to have everything on the spot on the subject of my obsession. I think that she is right about that. This would be beyond the normal worry and obsessions I deal with everyday.

Right now, I would say that I'm swinging towards depression...hence the rambling here.

Oh, I also tend to take things out of context, get sensitive about it, or totally miss the point the person who is talking to me is trying to say. With Mom, this ends in an argument, and with friends, I usually don't say anything, but get upset and confused.

I'm on disability, like I said, and will probably be on it the rest of my life. Mental Illness is real, and having someone tell me to pick myself up by my bootstraps, get over it, or look at what you have DOES NOT HELP when one is deep in the whole of depression. In fact, I can take everything said to me to turn it around to where it is from my own skewed depressive point of view and fits into my self-incrimination and reasons why I'm a failure.

Though I often feel like I'm wasting someone else's oxygen and have done nothing redeeming in my life, I can tell you that I'm not a slacker. I really can't handle normal things in life like going someplace every day to make money. Believe me, I wish I could. It might make me feel that I'm worth something.

With that, please keep these things in mind when you deal with someone with a mental illness.

Ciao...