MY STRUGGLE WITH BIPOLAR
“Every day is different, I cannot tell you how I am going to feel in the next hour.” Natalie M Bleau
I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW I AM GOING TO TO FEEL IN THE NEXT HOUR.
In 2007, I received a diagnosis of manic depression, also known as bipolar disorder.
It took me several years of engaging in destructive behavior and avoiding necessary help before I finally accepted the reality.
I realized that in order to manage my condition, I had to commit to taking my medication and actively engage with the available services.
Only a handful truly comprehend the intricacies of this ailment, while others deliberately choose to remain ignorant. As a consequence, I have bid farewell to companions and discovered the necessity of seclusion, for I am deemed an utter annoyance.
Restlessness consumes me, rendering me incapable of focusing on a single endeavor, resulting in perpetual unfinished tasks. My abode is absurdly overflowing with supplies, a testament to my relentless obsession with the fear of scarcity.
In addition to that, I grapple with OCD and have an intense fear of germs. This constant battle has become the most exhausting aspect of my life. I find myself incessantly inspecting the ground beneath my feet as I stroll down the street, ensuring that I haven’t accidentally stepped on anything, not even a speck of mud.
To ensure a germ-free environment in my apartment, I decided to invest in a cutting-edge shoe cleaning apparatus. Prior to this, I used to go through the laborious process of filling a basin with disinfectant and meticulously scrubbing the soles of my shoes by hand.
I simply cannot bring myself to occupy a soiled seat or rest on an unclean floor; it goes against my nature.
Consequently, I often catch myself meticulously scrutinizing various objects and inspecting the surfaces beneath my feet.
In addition, my circle of visitors is quite limited, with the exception of my mother who faithfully drops by every Tuesday to check on me.
Spending extended periods of time with others has always been a challenge for me, as it tends to leave me feeling irritable and eventually leads to a decline in my mood. In order to preserve my own well-being and that of those around me, I find it necessary to take breaks and distance myself.
Considering my circumstances, I have made the decision to never enter into marriage and, even prior to receiving my diagnosis, I had already resolved not to bring children into this world who might share similar struggles. Deep down, I have always had an intuition that something was amiss within me before adulthood.
Unless provoked, I wouldn’t consider myself a threat to others, although I do harbor a significant amount of pent-up anger because I’ve never found a healthy way to release it.
While I find it effortless to form friendships, my illness makes it challenging to sustain those relationships.
My mind is plagued with disturbing thoughts, and I often unintentionally alienate people when I delve into dark scenarios. Unfortunately, it's something I struggle to control.
At the train station, I made a sickening statement to a friend, suggesting that the most convenient train for me to jump in front of was a C2C.
Understandably, he gave me a perplexed look, thinking I was peculiar and hasn’t spoken to me since.
I find myself consumed by thoughts of my eventual demise, exploring countless scenarios and even indulging in vivid fantasies about it. This preoccupation can lead me down a path of delusion, causing me to confine myself indoors for fear of the unknown.
Occasionally, I struggle to recall the details of my recent activities, leaving me perplexed about how I arrived home or what occupied my time just yesterday.
I have unwavering faith in the power of synchronicity, firmly believing that there are meaningful messages awaiting me in various forms. Whether they manifest on a towering billboard, within a cleverly crafted meme, or even through a striking sense of déjà vu, I am certain that the universe is constantly communicating with me.
During moments of mania, my tendency to dominate conversations and rapidly switch topics can leave others feeling utterly overwhelmed.
I’ve received feedback that my excessive talking can exhaust people, even causing them to develop headaches.
In fact, my sister has advised me to avoid visiting her home or spending time together when I’m in that particular mood.
Depression has an overwhelming presence in my existence, to the point where I once believed that my purpose on this planet was to endure perpetual suffering.
During my lowest moments, I withdraw from society, becoming invisible to those around me. I lose my appetite, confining myself to the confines of my bed, with the sole objective of maintaining personal hygiene.
In an effort to gain a clear understanding of my actions, I relinquished vices such as drinking, smoking, and drugs. However, despite these changes, my mind remains as turbulent as ever.
I witnessed my dear Father’s agonizing battle with cancer. It deeply saddened him to see me grappling with my own mental illness, to the extent that he expressed a profound sentiment: if given the option, he would willingly choose cancer over enduring a lifetime of mental health struggles.
For him, the finite nature of cancer offered a glimmer of hope, whereas the perpetual nature of mental illness seemed like an eternal burden.
In the journey of life, challenges are inevitable for everyone, and our individual ways of handling them vary greatly. However, when one already battles with a mental illness, these challenges can become overwhelmingly magnified.
Personally, I have been regularly visiting a psychiatrist for the past nine months, but recently, everything seems to have crumbled.
It is disheartening to realize that not all doctors are truly invested in your well-being. The feedback I received from my last session felt detached, as if the person being discussed was a stranger rather than myself.
Having a mental illness does not diminish our intelligence or ability to comprehend written words.
Feeling incredibly small and overwhelmed, I found myself shedding tears and reaching out to the crisis helpline, a resource I rarely rely on.
Unfortunately, this action reignited thoughts of suicide and undid all the progress I had made towards improving my overall mental health.
However, amidst the despair, a glimmer of hope emerged as I turned to a reliable friend within the services. They offered me reassurance, assuring me that I would receive support from another individual in the coming month.
Navigating the realm of mental health can often feel like embarking on a solitary odyssey, a voyage through the depths of isolation.
Despite your relentless efforts to seek assistance, it may appear as though you are repeatedly met with resistance, akin to fruitlessly banging your head against an unyielding wall.
However, I implore you, do not surrender in this battle. Your existence holds immense value and meaning.
Author: Natalie M Bleau
Founder: Scripture of Balance since December 2021
