Today, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I sat in my car and cried for ten minutes while I looked at my prescription. The illness that has waged wars within myself for years has finally been tagged. I finally have an answer. And I couldn’t be happier.
I’ve been diagnosed with depression since I was 14, when I was first hospitalized. I had years of self harm and suicidal ideation under my belt. I was hospitalized again at 17, for the same reason. It was obvious I was depressed, and my anxiety has never been easy to hide. But I knew there was something more.
For years now, I’ve had dramatic mood swings that felt uncontrollable. Out of nowhere, I felt the incessant need to punch or break something, or sit and sob for hours. No warning. No trigger. No explanation. I’ve generally been a pretty kind person, and although I would never intend to cause anyone harm, unwanted thoughts would fog up my head.
I didn’t really understand what bipolar disorder was when I was younger. I figured it was just mood swings, and the term was used so loosely, I couldn’t understand how serious it was. Crying randomly was normal for me, due to my PTSD. I didn’t think much more of it, besides understanding my depression. I’ve been actively working to tackle that demon for years. I was 16 when I first began to think there was another layer I didn’t quite grasp. ‘I was just fine a minute ago, why am I so angry now?’ ‘Today was a good day, why am I feeling so down?’ I was told it was hormones or it was stress, and even so much as I just wanted the attention. I hid my problems. I pretended. I kept quiet.
I’ve always been very open about my journey through recovery, and will continue to be. However, I’ve never talked about these intense mood swings. I’ve never talked about the manic feeling I get for a few days, the new instilled self confidence that would come and go. The feeling that I was indestructible. That i could do anything and nothing bad would happen. The higher I got, the harder I would fall. Although things could be fine in my every day life, I was angry. I was irritable. Annoyed. I snapped at people. I lost my temper. I felt guilty for things beyond my control. I was overthinking everything. I had a weight on my chest that I couldn’t lift, and so I allowed it to crush me. I’ve been putting up with this ongoing battle for longer than I could remember. But it was just “hormones”. Just “stress”.
Sitting across from the psychiatrist today, I didn’t expect an answer. I’ve never gotten one beyond “depression”, which didn’t excuse the voices I heard, the racing thoughts, the aggression. I felt misunderstood and hurt by myself that I could let my mind win. To have an answer to the problem I’ve been facing for so long almost immediately brought me to tears. I’ve been living undiagnosed for so long, and now, FINALLY, I can work on my solution. I’m not crazy. I’m not looking for attention. I’m not just stressed. I am fighting every day, constantly, for a moment of peace in my mind, and this diagnosis is everything I’ve been waiting to hear. As sad as it makes me to know I have this disorder, I’m so happy that we can work towards a better understanding of how I need to heal. I start my new medication today. I meet again with my therapist soon. I’m on the right track to loving myself and the life I’m living.
The past twenty one years have been far from easy, but I’m choosing every day to keep going. That’s the thing, I wake up, and have to make that choice. But I will continue to work on healing, I will continue to work on my peace. It’s a hell of a journey, but it’s not done yet.
