Adapting to Bipolar Living
It seemed to have happened over night. The thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Depressing thoughts that would not seem to leave me alone. This was not me. I grew up in a good family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a fantastic girlfriend. Why am I suddenly depressed every day and having these suicidal images in my brain? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my duffel with my last meaningful belongings and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a good taste in my mouth about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were rubbery and inconsistent. One minute I was thinking about jumping in front of a train, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.
After a few days on the road, I woke up one morning extremely confused and scared by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone by the river. My mind felt like scrambled eggs and I decided it was time to connect with someone. I showed up at my music teacher’s house and explained to him that I had found God. His face told me that he thought I was joking. But the more I said, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my grandma was there to pick me up. After many frantic hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with manic depression.
Living Bipolar is no joke. I’m on a ton of pills that make me feel fuzzy and tired even though my thoughts have leveled out for the most part and I sort of feel like me again. I’m still in a band, but my band mates are always concerned about how I’m doing or whether or not I’m going to take off again. My family members aren’t quite sure how to deal with living bipolar either. The medication is costing them money, and they keep searching for miracle cure. If I don’t take my medication, I start to say things about the world in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve started going to church pretty frequently because I want to ask God for help through this. I wish living with bipolar disorder didn’t entail a bunch of pills that take me out of myself. But then again I’m not myself when I don’t take the pills either. It’s quite ridiculous!
I just have to get through it one day at a time. My family and I have dinner together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How class was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new drummer yet or any shows coming up? But in the back of my mind there is a constant voice telling me that everyone is judging me for being a freak. I think they’re scared of me. They think I could snap at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to living with manic depression is a difficult thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Brannigan tells me, “Life is a struggle only to teach.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to overcome my sour feelings of not fitting in. My music is getting better and my drive is getting stronger. With the help of my friends and family, I will use my feelings about this bipolar madness to fuel me on the path to a meaningful existence.
