One day my sister said something that hurt me to my core. You must be a really unhappy person. I said I don’t think so. I said I’m not always sad. I have good times too.
HELLO bipolar. Ding ding.
This lead to a formal diagnosis. When I found out that I really did have bipolar disorder it was such a relief. It had a name. I wasn’t crazy (well I was…) but all my symptoms, acting out, impulsivity, depression, extreme anger all fell into the diagnosis of bipolar. And there is treatment for it. Now that we know exactly what the hell is wrong with me we can find something to make me feel better. I just didn’t know how long that would be.
I didn’t realize that bipolar would be lifelong struggle. I thought that once treated you’d be good! Perfectly new! Maybe I’d have some bumps looking for the right medication but then things would be fixed. It would be able to be managed.
Since I’ve been diagnosed I’ve still suffered from the worst bout of depression I’ve ever had. The mania has been gone mostly except for a bit of hypomania at times.
Now I know it’s a delicate balance between mania and depression. Can’t get too happy…..don’t wanna get too sad. Depression always follows mania. I’m beginning to see the light.