Bipolar disorder runs in my family. My father and five of his six brothers and sisters had it. For most of my life I feared it would get me also. But by the time I was 55, I thought I was going to be lucky and bipolar disorder wasn’t going to get me. What follows is an account of my struggles with bipolar disorder and how I live with it.
I had been feeling great, even better than great. I had lots of energy, lots of ideas, worked hard without getting tired. Then I suddenly had bouts of intense, zooming anxiety about nothing at all. I saw a psychiatrist who had treated me for depression about a year previous. At the time he was treating me for depression, he also wanted me to take a mood stabilizer but I would have none of it. A mood stabilizer meant bipolar disorder and I didn’t have it. The doctor prescribed Xanax and it helped.
Then one night I went to bed and a sudden almost uncontrollable urge to hit and hit and hit my husband got hold of me. I had to get out of the bedroom for fear of attacking him. I couldn’t sleep and felt wild, raging, despairing.
The next morning I felt great and wanted to go fishing, something I hadn’t done nor had any desire to do for 30 years. I ran around town buying a pole and tackle, a fishing license, and bait. The drivers of other cars seemed to always be getting in my way and I just wanted to smash them. People in line at the stores seemed rude and loud and I just wanted to smash them with my fists.
Suddenly, as evening came on, my mood changed. I dropped into a bit of agonizing despair with a psychic pain that seemed to cut into my very soul. I couldn’t sleep with my husband. I couldn’t sleep. I sat on the porch, smoking. I tried to light fire to a bunch of corn stalks. I pushed the cigarette into my skin and the physical pain of it brought relief.
The next day I made an emergency appointment with my psychiatrist. My husband drove and I cried most of the way. I couldn’t look at my doctor; the light seemed too bright. I told him that I couldn’t figure out what was going on with me: one minute I would be feeling great and then I’d be in the depths of despair. He said, “Bipolar disorder, mixed.” Bipolar disorder, the dreaded words. He prescribed Depakote, an anti seizure medication that was just beginning to be used for people who were bipolar. I cried all the way home. I felt like damaged goods. But I made a promise to myself which was that I would not hurt someone else or myself no matter how I felt.
Over the next few months I got a little better. It took 2000 mg. of Depakote to make me feel like I was in control of myself. But Depakote also made me feel leaden, both physically and mentally. I lost all ability to do even the most simple arithmetic.
Then as fall came, I went into a black hole of depression and thought of suicide day and night. I could barely move and every motion seemed almost overwhelming. I had gone to another pole of bipolar disorder.
My depression was much more difficult to treat than my hypomania. It took years, not months to really get over it. During those years I tried lithium, Neurontin, Topomax Prozac, Zoloft, Cylexa, Remeron, Wellbutrin, and finally Effexor. Effexor along with Zyprexa as a mood stabilizer has made me feel almost normal and I have been stable for about three years. I have my ups and downs but they are mini ups and downs compared to what I experienced earlier.
During much of this time, I was also in psychotherapy and, while it couldn’t treat my bipolar disorder like medication could, it helped me cope and helped me identify triggers which set off mania or depression.
How do I live with bipolar disorder? I take my medication faithfully and keep my psychiatrist informed fully informed about how I am feeling. It is always tempting to go off medication but that way lies disaster. I am currently on Xanax, Effexor, and Zyprexa and this combination seems to control the bipolar disorder without making me feel drugged.
For a long time, I thought that I would eventually die from suicide. But I had made the promise to myself that I wouldn’t hurt myself. I didn’t have much hope but I did keep trying to get better.
The Internet was a godsend. It kept me in touch with a world that I was too afraid and depressed to actually go into. I could become so absorbed in cyberspace that I forgot about my depression. I made cyber friends when I could not tolerate the sight of my real life friends. I also learned a great deal about bipolar disorder.
It is very important that I keep regular sleep hours and that I live a fairly structured life. I also need to monitor myself and cut back on activities if I begin to feel too anxious or increase activity if I start to feel stale. I exercise, write, and read daily and have at least one outing or visit with a friend each week.
I wasn’t sure of a God, but I did pray and this afforded some relief. It was as if I gave over the burden of myself to someone or something else.
As I began to feel better, I had to force myself to take little steps to get back out into the world. Just going to the store for a loaf of bread was a chore at first. I had to slowly re-connect with my friends. Slowly I also made new friends.
I fully accepted the fact that I have bipolar disorder and always will and that I have some level of disability but I can still lead a fulfilling life.
