Written by: ME
I describe bipolar as a house with three levels. Upstairs is Mania, Main Floor in even moods, and of course the basement where the shackles of Depression are clasped ever so tightly around your ankles. I seem to wind up in the basement much more often than upstairs. I was diagnosed with Bipolar in the late 1990′s. (These are recollections on the cruel portrayal of the bipolar illness).
This was written describing a time when my bipolar disorder was not being taken care of and not on the correct meds. I was flip-flopping between highs and lows – nothing was helping. I am lucky that I now have a doctor who is knowledgeable in this illness and I was finally put on the correct meds.
~~Mania~~
Why is this mood of mania so good to be true?
How can a human being gather such joy, such stamina, such exuberance, such astuteness over a short period of time?
I was unlucky or as other people say lucky that my mania never lasted very long
I didn’t plan on buying a car, but purchased one today. Travelled from car lot to car lot and at last found the one for me. It’s brand, spanking new with all of the features. I’m unsure how much I paid for it – I’ll fret about that afterward.
Had an appointment with my psychiatrist today. He said I’m cycling too high, too fast and will hit pavement if this is not taken care of. I was given another appointment for the end of the week, handed some medication, but tossed the meds away – I want to fly, no, soar as high as I can go. I refuse to give this rejoicing up.
Visited the bar tonight. Made lots of “friends”. They said they have never seen someone so “up”. Also, I prefer to talk more than listen. Tonight I know I made an impression, people were interested in me and I was the center of attention. I even bought a few rounds of drinks and plenty for me too. I really entertained them. Top notch. I’m proud.
Suddenly, the urge is there to spend money. Shopped ‘til I dropped at Walmart and spent, spent, spent on miscellaneous items. The excitement was there big time.
Days pass. I can’t sleep, but who cares, who wants to sleep? I don’t, and miss this wonderful world? The pacing though, I can’t stop. I sit down – get up. Repeat. Repeat. Is this madness? I don’t want to be ‘normal’, I prefer the sweet taste of ‘high’.
Time passes by. I’m slowing down, and begin to spiral downwards. I’m crashing. I’ve hit cement.
I’m in blackness – in the basement.
~~Depression~~
Dreaming. In calm waters. I’m sitting in my dinghy cross-legged, floating. The sea and sky are black.
I awaken. Black. Black is black. The room is black, but it must be morning. I’m all mixed up. I thought I heard the food trays arrive. I sneak a quick look out my room, and yes it is morning, but the halls too look black. All I sense is dread. Am I in a dream world? I shuffle back to bed.
I recollect particular events, my hospital admission for one. My family expressed they had no alternative, I was incoherent, seated in my rocking chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth, tightly wrapped in my orange and lime-green crocheted afghan. I hadn’t called anyone for days, nor answered the telephone. They were apprehensive upon entering the house. Phew! I was alive they said.
Time passes and I am unable to actually climb out of bed now; I am encased in stone. My heart is thumping so I must be alive, but this dreadful veil covers me like death. I feel chilly. Suicidal thoughts dance in my head. Is this punishment for my ‘high’? Life is unfair.
~~The Learning Curve~~
Treated with anti-depressants, I was able to recover from my bottomless depressive state. I spent many weeks in hospital recovering.
There were times when I totally wished to toss in the cards, so to speak, and admit defeat. Take me, enough of this garbage. What did I do that was so immoral to be selected and handed this illness?
This is not my initial time ‘high’ and believed I was in a position to stop taking medication. What was the point? I felt incredible. When you’ve hit bottom one still doesn’t realize why hell has welcomed him. But, you’re given a kick and memory surfaces. The fog clears and you recall abusing alcohol and refusal of prescribed medication. This spells disaster for persons with mental illness.
~~Conclusion~~
I am working diligently now to surface and achieve an ‘even mood’. It requires enormous effort. Back on medication, faithfully ingesting the prescribed dosages, I am told it will take some time to get back on my feet.
In retrospect, I obviously made some irresponsible choices, but while manic your thoughts and judgment are impaired. It’s unproblematic to scale to the peak of the mountain, but plummeting and sitting in the dungeon is excruciating.
