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 loving family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a wonderful girlfriend. Why am I suddenly sleeping all day and having these suicidal tendancies? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my duffel with a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a bible and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a clear thought in my head about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were foggy and dark. 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 in the woods. My mind felt like jelly and I decided it was time to find someone. I showed up at my friend’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 tried to convince him, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my grandma was there to pick me up. After many troubled hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
Manic depression is no joke. I’m on a ton of medicines that make me feel groggy and weird 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 friends are always concerned about how I’m feeling or whether or not I’m going to take off again. My grandparents aren’t quite sure how to deal with living bipolar either. The pills are costing them money, and they keep searching for a permanent 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 begun going to church twice a week because I want to ask God for a solution. 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 medicine either. It’s quite ridiculous!
I just have to get through it one day at a time. My family and I have supper together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How school was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new song yet or any gigs coming up? But in the back of my mind there is a constant voice telling me that everyone is judging me for being bipolar. I feel like they’re scared of me. They think I could snap at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to bipolar living is a hard thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Brannigan tells me, “A life of struggle should teach compassion.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to override my aweful 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.
