Bipolar - a word used by many jokingly to describe "moody people", an angelically evil cat, fluctuating weather etc. A word that at least 5.6 million American's see on their medical records every time they visit the doctor, which is at least once a month.
Something not visible to an outsider. Something that only the human suffering can understand.
A word, used to describe their life, the way they think, feel, function, a word that describes their life; my life. Each person suffering with Bipolar Disorder, has a unique story as the disease affects no two people the same. So this, this is my story.
The diagnoses came after my 27th birthday, but the warning signs were there, staring me in the face, all along. I think the entire time I knew it was there, but, never wanted the diagnoses to be real.
To move forward to when it became undeniable, was only a few months prior to my birthday in August. At first, it started with the sleep again. A week of solid sleep. A couple weeks of 3-4 hours of sleep a night without feeling exhausted. But the irritability was there.
Then around July, came the euphoria or hypo-mania, I remember sitting in my car thinking, "I wish I could bottle up what I am feeling right now and feel like this all the time. I have got to figure out how to be this productive all the time. I could conquer the world if I could just feel like this all of the time." (how could I miss such a sign?)
Then, came the lows, lows I'd never experienced before. Driving down the highway at 120 mph ready to ram myself into a wall. Ready to end it all. Well, maybe not end it all because in hindsight I likely wouldn't die via car wreck.
And finally in October, came a new feeling, nights of suicidal thoughts and planning, reckless driving, inability to get out of bed, but inability to sleep, and the grandiose was out of control. Within one day I felt I could conquer the world and wanted to kill myself all at the time time.
Rapid cycling. Mixed state. Two terms I was unfamiliar with that would soon come describe my life.
Finally, at work, the feelings, I'm not sure which ones they were, consumed me to where I shook uncontrollably, the inability to stand straight, talk right, function, completely gone.
Two loving coworkers did for me what I could not do for myself, made sure I made it to the hospital.
3 grueling days - days I wish I could tell you that caused me to hit rock bottom; they didn't my episode hadn't ended yet so I only playing the game. I knew something was wrong, I witnessed the pain of others, I empathized, I recognized, and yet I still wasn't back to me.
I saw the Bipolar Type II diagnoses - but I didn't care then. It wasn't until I left the hospital did the full impact of all of the events hit me.
This free-spirited girl, filled with living life without routine was going to have to change everything about her life to avoid episodes. I'd have to start being ritualistic about bed times, and schedules. YUCK! I could no longer just move across the country, or switch jobs because I wanted to, because guess what? When my routines are off, I will eventually become suicidal. YAY! fun times.
Literally my entire life was shattered. Turned up-side down. New struggles. New places. It's been 9 months since diagnoses and I wish I could tell you I have the answers to everything. But alas I don't.
Not right now.
But there have been much more that I have learned... all coming in the future blogs. I hope to inform the world the truth behind the illness and end the stigmas surrounding.
But for now, this is me, this is my Bipolar story. Life behind My Bipolar Eyes.
Something not visible to an outsider. Something that only the human suffering can understand.
A word, used to describe their life, the way they think, feel, function, a word that describes their life; my life. Each person suffering with Bipolar Disorder, has a unique story as the disease affects no two people the same. So this, this is my story.
The diagnoses came after my 27th birthday, but the warning signs were there, staring me in the face, all along. I think the entire time I knew it was there, but, never wanted the diagnoses to be real.
To move forward to when it became undeniable, was only a few months prior to my birthday in August. At first, it started with the sleep again. A week of solid sleep. A couple weeks of 3-4 hours of sleep a night without feeling exhausted. But the irritability was there.
Then around July, came the euphoria or hypo-mania, I remember sitting in my car thinking, "I wish I could bottle up what I am feeling right now and feel like this all the time. I have got to figure out how to be this productive all the time. I could conquer the world if I could just feel like this all of the time." (how could I miss such a sign?)
Then, came the lows, lows I'd never experienced before. Driving down the highway at 120 mph ready to ram myself into a wall. Ready to end it all. Well, maybe not end it all because in hindsight I likely wouldn't die via car wreck.
And finally in October, came a new feeling, nights of suicidal thoughts and planning, reckless driving, inability to get out of bed, but inability to sleep, and the grandiose was out of control. Within one day I felt I could conquer the world and wanted to kill myself all at the time time.
Rapid cycling. Mixed state. Two terms I was unfamiliar with that would soon come describe my life.
Finally, at work, the feelings, I'm not sure which ones they were, consumed me to where I shook uncontrollably, the inability to stand straight, talk right, function, completely gone.
Two loving coworkers did for me what I could not do for myself, made sure I made it to the hospital.
3 grueling days - days I wish I could tell you that caused me to hit rock bottom; they didn't my episode hadn't ended yet so I only playing the game. I knew something was wrong, I witnessed the pain of others, I empathized, I recognized, and yet I still wasn't back to me.
I saw the Bipolar Type II diagnoses - but I didn't care then. It wasn't until I left the hospital did the full impact of all of the events hit me.
This free-spirited girl, filled with living life without routine was going to have to change everything about her life to avoid episodes. I'd have to start being ritualistic about bed times, and schedules. YUCK! I could no longer just move across the country, or switch jobs because I wanted to, because guess what? When my routines are off, I will eventually become suicidal. YAY! fun times.
Literally my entire life was shattered. Turned up-side down. New struggles. New places. It's been 9 months since diagnoses and I wish I could tell you I have the answers to everything. But alas I don't.
Not right now.
But there have been much more that I have learned... all coming in the future blogs. I hope to inform the world the truth behind the illness and end the stigmas surrounding.
But for now, this is me, this is my Bipolar story. Life behind My Bipolar Eyes.
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