Breaking Free From The Bipolar Disorder Stigma

The view from an observer and a first-hand experience

This is a hard one to write about.

It’s even harder than recounting my rebellious, alcohol-fueled days of destruction.

This is about the disorder that I medicated and pretended was not there for many years.

When you downplay your mental health and keep saying, I am fine, you stay stuck. I did for years because…

“My mom has bipolar disorder and I DO NOT behave the way she does.”

Yes, this is true. What many people don’t know is that there are various degrees of bipolar disorder.

My mom has bipolar I, not to be confused with bipolar II.

So, why is this so hard to write about? Why am I ashamed about something that I have no control over?

It’s a brain disorder that many people just classify you as being…

CRAZY!

So, let me describe for you what it’s like to watch someone that has bipolar I.

Each day when I was younger, I would be on my way home from school not knowing what I’d be stepping into. I was ALWAYS scared.

Either she’d be fluttering around cleaning like a busy bee, with so much energy she didn’t know what to do with. Or, she’d be in a fit of rage sending her to spend days in her bedroom.

During her mania, she vacuumed constantly. She needed that perpetual movement of her body due to the mania. She didn’t stop talking or yelling. Although, she was rarely in a good mood and agitated over anything.

Our house was in perfect, tidy order… always. If it wasn’t or we dare make a little mess, all hell broke loose. This would send her into a fit of rage. Screaming, yelling, punching, throwing, and doing anything ensuing chaos.

She once took me on a spending, shopping spree and it is one of my best memories with her. Maybe one of my only. I wasn’t fully aware of her issues yet.

All I did know was that she heavily medicated herself with drugs and alcohol. This is not uncommon at all with bipolar disorder.

Then, the fog of depression would roll in and we knew not to bother her. Don’t wake the beast! She’d spend days alone in her room, doing drugs. If we pissed her off, the rage would come out like a demon. So, we left her alone.

I found out later in life that she refused to take her meds. She was placed on a 72 hour hold one night after a violent spree of hate towards my step-father and he had no other choice.

People with bipolar disorder often don’t want to take their medications because they love the manic high. Medication makes them stable and she didn’t like that. She wanted to feel that mega high.

What it’s like to experience bipolar II

My symptoms didn’t start until I was 30. I never thought anything of it, either. I’d blame my moods on my menstrual cycle.

For someone who’s been laid back most of their life, the energy and heightened senses felt good. I’d wake up in the morning, have a ton of energy, clean like a madwoman, and head off to shop for tons of shit I didn’t need. The mania also made it hard to sleep at times.

That made me so happy, at that moment. The next day, I’d wake up with regret and it felt like a brick on my chest.

So, what did I do? The same thing my mom did. Medicated my moods with drugs and alcohol. But, I kept thinking, “I am not like her.” I just thought I had depression.

Psychiatrists during my 30s didn’t detect it, either. I’ve tried 8 different anti-depressants and they all made me feel like I couldn’t shake the amount of caffeine in my body. Or, if you’ve done stimulants, it felt like coming off of those.

Not a good feeling, at all.

So, my use of anti-depressants didn’t last.

I continued to get worse. My kids didn’t know what would set me off. If there were dishes in the sink, my blood started boiling. I would get hot and my brain felt like it might explode. I would yell while cleaning up their messes. This was exactly like my mom.

The manic episodes weren’t as heightened and the lows were not something that made me suicidal, but I knew something was wrong.

What did I do about it?

Finally, at 40, I decided to see a new psychiatrist that I’d researched. He was able to swab my mouth to see if I would react positively to a mood stabilizer. He did this because I didn’t respond well to anti-depressants. Why was this the first time I’d arrived at this conclusion? Still not sure about that.

After the results from the swab, he diagnosed me with bipolar II. I was in shock and felt ashamed. I called my mom crazy for years. I realized that it wasn’t fair to use those words. I didn’t want someone to call me that.

But, I was willing to do what it took to feel stable. I didn’t want the drugs and alcohol anymore to medicate myself.

Let me tell you, the first week I started taking Lamictal was astounding. I became so calm and peaceful to be around. I wasn’t flying off the handle from a speck of dust on the counter.

That’s all it took, one little pill, and my life changed.

So, I’m here sharing my story to break the stigma. Who cares if I am on this medication for the rest of my life? I am proud to say that with a mental health disorder, some people like myself, need medication for stability.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have feelings. I still get mad, sad, happy, and nervous. But, it’s manageable.

Just looking and talking to my family now, I realize how much I’ve changed by observing their reaction to me. And, it’s the best feeling in the world.

So, if you are suffering from mood swings, mania, and/or depression, I urge you to seek out a trained medical psychiatric professional. That, in addition to therapy, changed my life.

I’m no longer ashamed, but proud that I took the steps to get better.

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Thanks for reading!

Much love, Michele