The Lonely Side of Bipolar
why friendship is so challenging to maintain
It’s been a long bumpy road since the day I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That day was one of the most freeing days of my life. I finally understood why I felt so crazy all the time and why I couldn’t manage my life. I found a psychiatrist who genuinely cared and wanted to help me get my life under control. He listened to me, understood me, then decided on the best medication for me while also instilling into me the importance of regular therapy. Medicine is not magical and only helps so much — therapy is such an essential part of the puzzle, and he made sure that I understood that. He gave me hope.
My life did a complete 180 soon after starting the new medication. My mind was clear; I was focused and calm, responding to conflict rather than reacting to it. My parenting improved dramatically — I wasn’t yelling at the drop of a hat anymore; my kids weren’t scared worrying about when the next time mom would get mad. I finally didn’t feel crazy. The medication was a godsend, yet it didn’t make life easier. I couldn’t stop life from happening around me; instead, I was now capable of handling life differently. Intentionally, calmly, and confidently.
If it weren’t for my psychiatrist and my daily medication, I don’t know where I would be today. As I said before, as crucial as medicine is — it is not the only piece of the puzzle. Another major piece is therapy. I have had a fantastic therapist for the past four years, and I would never be where I am today if it wasn’t for her. She has taught me so much about myself and about navigating the world. She helps me see my potential and believes in me even when I feel like a helpless failure. She is excellent at telling me things I don’t want to hear, and I reluctantly listen and eventually understand why she said what she said. The third part of the puzzle was going to Dialectic Behavior Therapy for two years — something I am contemplating reattending. It may not be a one-and-done type of thing. Life fluctuates, and although I was ready to be “on my own” when I stopped going last time, I have the skills to see that I may need to return for a ‘refresher,’ you might say — a boost to help my lift my life and mental health up again. Figure out why this sober thing has been so damn difficult for me. DBT is a weekly therapy group that meets for two hours every week. The facilitator — a licensed therapist — teaches us valuable skills to learn how to handle distress, communicate, and process emotions in a healthy way. A common occurrence with my bipolar reacts to distress in a way that escalates the situation, rather than responding to the situation mindfully and calmly to resolve the conflict. Learning the skills is one thing; utilizing the skills is another.
Sticking to a treatment plan is just as important for mental illness as it is for other diseases. If I miss my medication a day or two, it can significantly impact my state of mind. Whether it spikes a manic episode or puts me into a depression, it isn’t good for anyone. Missing therapy will also send me down a spiral with my bipolar that can be dangerous. Active treatment is a part-time job, and my pay is sanity.
Stability isn’t a perfect science. I can do everything the way I am supposed to and still endure major episodes, which makes relationships complicated. My brain works in a much different way than those around me, and to them, it is incomprehensible. They see the side effects as personality flaws, behavior issues, lack of control. My symptoms make me a bad person in their eyes. Whereas in comparison, people don’t question someone’s symptoms when they have a visible disability.
Living with bipolar disorder is exhausting. It isn’t as simple as being happy sometimes and sad other times. It has physical side effects.
Fatigue/lethargy
- Some days, getting out of bed seems impossible; my eyes are 100 lbs. My body is too tired to physically get up and take my medication, which only worsens things.
Jaw pain
- While I am manic, my teeth grind. I don’t even realize I am doing it until my jaw starts to hurt. And even then, I continue to do it. It is automatic, like breathing or swallowing — especially while sleeping. It has gotten to the point where I cried trying to eat; opening my mouth was too painful. It is hurting as I type this… am I manic right now??
Mania
- Spontaneous and excessive spending
- Rapid speech
- Wide eyes
- Lack of appetite & sleep
- Hyper focused
- Rash and potentially risky decision-making.
- Irrational behavior
Depressive episodes come with the most extreme of them all: Suicidal ideation or attempts.
- Constant, intrusive thoughts about how I would be better off dead, everyone around me would be happier if I wasn’t here anymore, I am a burden that keeps crying wolf.
- The racing thoughts, panic attacks, and sobbing are unstoppable.
- Sleep. So much sleep. Sleep is the closest thing to death, and it is my escape to another world. Even the night terrors, vivid nightmares, and night sweats are better than sitting in the prison of my mind.
- The pain of reaching out and telling others I am feeling suicidal leads them to believe I am looking for attention or having a “pity party.” Yet, those same people are always shocked and hurt when they find me in the hospital after a failed attempt. It is a helpless place to find yourself.
It seems as if people can grasp the concept of bipolar and tell themselves they can “handle” it at the beginning of the relationship, romantic or otherwise. An easy thing to say to themselves while I am stable — or even slightly manic. As soon as they see the negative side effects — the “crazy” — they learn that I am “too much,” as many have told me. Then they are gone almost as quickly as they enter my life.
Zoom has been such a saving grace since my journey post COVID. I was so apprehensive initially, believing I wouldn’t connect with other people through a computer screen. Thankfully, I was wrong and have met some incredible people who have helped me through some dark moments. Still, people come and go in the meetings, and sometimes it feels like as soon as I feel a real connection with someone, they disappear. At least with my online friends, I know it isn’t anything personal that they stop coming to the meetings. When people in the “real world” are in my life and suddenly leave, it is very personal. It hurts. It feels like abandonment. A feeling I have felt from romantic relationships as well as friendships. I even come with a warning!
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My hope is that one of these days, I will find my person who will mean it when they say I am not disposable. Someone who means it when they say they won’t abandon me, someone who won’t lie to me. Don’t get me wrong; I have people now. I do. I have my sister — my person from birth. I have my roommate — the only non-blood member to stick with me through the dark times and means it when they say they won’t leave. I will always have my community — the LGBT culture is one that will never abandon me. The people may change, but the love and acceptance always stay the same.
Eventually, it will happen for me. I was given hope. I won’t lose it just yet.
❤ 24
