If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.
(Trigger warning: depression, mania)
I think one thing that comes up when I think about a number of the labels you could apply to me is that this is my experience; I don’t know any other and so I can’t talk about things with any real understanding of how it feels not to be this. I can only look at the descriptions of what it is to be typical or of how others experience what I am and postulate from there.
Here is what I think I want people to know when they learn that I’m bipolar:
- It’s okay. I’m lucky. I seem to have made it through the worst (15-19 years old were…so bad…every. single. day.) and seem to have basically stabilised at what, to me, seems like a manageable place.
- If I get enough sleep, enough alone time, enough non-stressed time; if I eat what my body needs and move it (you might call it “exercise,†but that’s got connotations I don’t want to cling to) the way it wants; if I don’t feel ashamed for what happens, I can manage this without medication.
Important conclusion: People who give me rubbish about trying to get adequate sleep are basically asking me to skip my medication. If you care about me, you won’t do that. (Editing has spared you a mini-rant on the importance of sleep here. You’re welcome!) - This is not something that is cured or that is fixed by just trying to be happy. Any variation on “have you tried just not being depressed†will make me want to hit you. On a related note, yes, actually, listening to that music that isn’t happy does often do me more good than happy music (because happy music can sometimes just make me feel like it’s rubbing my face in how I’m failing at being happy). And, no, honestly, going out doesn’t usually help but generally hurts (watch for the introvert post to go up for more on that). In this day and age, if you actually think that a person can stop being depressed or that depression can be solved like sadness can, you are being purposefully ignorant. Please don’t assault me with that failing of your character.
- Most days, I feel depression all around my periphery. But it’s not usually at a level that I’d consider worrisome, so I’ve just made my peace and I live on. Because I can have good moments and enjoy things and be happy concurrently with that. (Depression isn’t the opposite of happiness, it just overwhelms happiness sometimes.) Even with the depression lurking, I am generally a sincerely positive person. Weird, right?
- I definitely have swings, deeper depressions and definite manic periods. And I’m really grateful that I can find ways to give myself solitude then. Solitude is part of how I manage and heal. And you don’t want to be around during one of those deeper times. (Plus, being around others during that just drains me more and adds ugliness to it.)
- My deep depressions can include crying jags, not getting out of bed due to it not feeling like there’s a point (yes, even though my logical little brain can tell me that’s not the case), not getting out of bed because I feel exhausted, feeling really cold, feeling heavy (physically, mentally, emotionally), losing interest in everything, despondent thoughts, and sometimes—when it’s at its worst—I get this sensation of my skin crawling and tingling with it.
- My manic swings…some people experience mania in ways that let them stay up all night getting things done. I’m not saying that those are okay, but there are times I envy that a little. Cos when I get manic, it’s anger and it’s muscles clenching. I might get stuck in a repetitive behaviour (once, at uni, I realised I’d been flicking a pen up my desk and letting it roll down to my fingers and repeating over and over all through a class and it took me a lot of concentration to stop so I could walk out when class was over). I lose dexterity as my muscles tense (try typing with curled up claws of fingers…no fun!), which only adds to the anger and frustration (but, hey, at least there’s a reason other than messed up body chemistry for that added anger and frustration). And, just like with depression, it would be a bad move to ask why I’m angry (or to try to push past my reply that it’s mania). Because it’s irrational and there’s no reason. I feel very lucky that, of the two, I experience depression more than mania.
So, all that said, whilst I’m not thrilled to be bipolar, I’m okay. The level at which I have it and generally experience it, especially these days, is so much lower than others I know or even than I used to. And, as with many things in my life, I’ve learned to manage it. And given I typed up some of this whilst in the middle of a depression swing, that’s not just rose-coloured glasses in a lull. Heh.
Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy)