Little did I know that all of this reached far deeper and affected my life much more than I ever could have known. As I watch others, I recognize more and more behaviors in my self. Watching children with bi-polar I feel like I am watching myself as a child on the television. The difference is that in the 70s there was no education for parents, mental issues came with sever stigma, and were considered an excuse for bad behavior. My parents often categorized me as hyper, difficult, impossible, and usually I ended up getting a whooping for my "misbehavior". It was never even considered that I had a problem I could not control. I remember extreme bouts of anger, extreme sadness, staying in my room in the dark for days after school, doing anything I could to get out of even going to school, stealing things, being unable to concentrate, an extremely vivid imagination, sexual urges even at a young age (this is a whole other thing that I am not ready to speak on openly), extreme fear of things, making up stories that I would convince myself were real, being horribly jealous and mean to my younger siblings...the list goes on.
Into my adolescence, the sexual urges were overwhelming, and I was active young. Extreme anxiety, not being able to pay attention in school, not being able to sleep at night, not being able to stay awake in class, obsession with playing music, this unstoppable urge to be involved in music and the theater, extreme belief that I deserved all the performance opportunities because I was convinced I was so superior to others, extreme anger then sadness over not getting my way, extreme guilt over being such a disturbance in my family, depression, frustration, and finally a completely debilitating break down when I was about 15 or 16. All of this was made worse by parents who didn't understand and therefore punished me with restrictions, it was a horrible spiral into the abyss. Meeting and falling in love with Steve was a turning point for me. I felt worth something to someone, and all those good feelings pulled me out of the snowball I was in, I was saved from rolling down the mountain, crashing and crumbling.
As young adult, I would go for days without showering, wouldn't clean my house for weeks, then all of a sudden stay up for however long it took to get it pristine and clean. I would have such extreme anxiety in college that at one point I actually passed out at a recital. Eventually the depression took me over and I just quit school, gave up. When Mackenzie was born, she had colic, cried 12 hours a day, my mother in law thought I was starving her, I was under pressure to do things differently than my instinct told me, and again the anxiety and depression took me away from the excitement of what should have been a magical time. This was made worse by Steve being very self absorbed at that time, and neither of us knowing why I was the way I was....we moved when Mackenzie was 18 months old, I was 5 months pregnant with delaney, no friends, Steve was involved with work, 4 hours from family, and again I missed out on what should have been a wonderful time. I was so sad, hopeless and miserable...
I went through a time of extreme mania that lasted about 4-5 years when I was having huge success with a home business and a thriving band. I felt unstoppable, on top of the world, bigger than life. I took huge risks. I did things I would normally never do, I drank, experimented with drugs, separated myself from my family, felt entitled to everything I was doing, hurt people without a second thought and fought hard against anyone I felt was trying to hold me down or take it all away. I would have huge outbursts of anger that resulted in me breaking things, every door on our house had holes kicked in them. When I realized that I was being destructive, I quit the band and my business. That sent me into a 2-3 year bout with depression. I rarely got out of bed, rarely took a shower, didn't clean the house or cook much, and I didn't care if I lived or died. Again, Steve and I were uneducated. He was simply resentful and mad at me and I was paralyzed with guilt. We were clueless as to why.
I can see where my life has been a roller coaster of depression often made worse by events that I couldn't control, then these high points and bouts of rage that were often just as damaging and traumatic. There were very good "normal times" in there too, sometimes long periods, but the episodes always came back.
Things didn't improve upon moving to Charlotte, though the preparation for the move did shoot me into a manic state where I was obsessed with doing everything on my own for the move, I was CERTAIN this was the answer, finally things would be better for SURE. Once we arrived, my failure to find a music project, many disappointments, and everything that comes along with a big move overwhelmed me again. I started having trouble getting out of bed in the morning, not being able to get to sleep at night, overwhelming sexual needs, obsession with the house being perfect... I was cycling fast between depression and anxiety, every day, sometimes back and forth with in hours. The fighting started with Steve again, and I was ready to leave, he was ready to leave... I started drinking more again, and even had a couple bouts with suicidal thoughts. Things were getting out of control fast. Steve finally took it upon himself to do what I could not do and got me to the doctor, he saved me again.
No one in my life, nor I had the education or tools to properly deal with all of these things. There was no controlling it and no getting over it. I have learned that this is a biological imbalance, a condition as real as cancer, diabetes, or arthritis... The only way out of it is treatment and knowing what to do during an episode. At 40 I am finally doing that. Medication, therapy, research and learning.
It is difficult to have to face more and more exactly how extensive this hidden and undiscovered disorder has affected my life, my husband's life, the lives of my children and countless others that have had a brush with me over the years. It makes me so sad. I wish I could have those years back. Where would I be now? What more would I have accomplished? How much hurt could have been avoided?
I can't answer these questions, and I can't change the past. While I find it difficult to stop dwelling on that past, I find extreme comfort in finally talking to doctors who are telling me what is wrong with me, validating what I tell them, treating me and helping me gain the skills I have so sorely been lacking my entire life. I don't feel so alone, isolated or like I am just plain an incurably bad person.
I have so much more discovery, learning, reconnecting, reconciliation, and coming to terms to do. Sometimes it feels like a mountain I won't be able to climb. With therapy, medication, love, education, music and acceptance I believe I will be able to find a more normal and happy life that I didn't even know existed. I wrote a song during a particularly bad low last week. I am much better today. I have been reaching out to some female friends for girl time, I am putting myself out there for another music project, I have dedicated myself to being prepared to go solo if things fall apart, we are having a party, and I am trying to keep from sliding into the high. So far I feel like things are even, maybe the mood stabilizers are working. Staying strong, moving forward, and working through the setbacks, it's all I can do. All that and also writing and sharing these experiences. Getting it out is a whole other form of therapy. If I have to go through all this, maybe it is so that I can shed some light, give someone else the courage to get help, and maybe let someone else know they are not alone.
Things didn't improve upon moving to Charlotte, though the preparation for the move did shoot me into a manic state where I was obsessed with doing everything on my own for the move, I was CERTAIN this was the answer, finally things would be better for SURE. Once we arrived, my failure to find a music project, many disappointments, and everything that comes along with a big move overwhelmed me again. I started having trouble getting out of bed in the morning, not being able to get to sleep at night, overwhelming sexual needs, obsession with the house being perfect... I was cycling fast between depression and anxiety, every day, sometimes back and forth with in hours. The fighting started with Steve again, and I was ready to leave, he was ready to leave... I started drinking more again, and even had a couple bouts with suicidal thoughts. Things were getting out of control fast. Steve finally took it upon himself to do what I could not do and got me to the doctor, he saved me again.
No one in my life, nor I had the education or tools to properly deal with all of these things. There was no controlling it and no getting over it. I have learned that this is a biological imbalance, a condition as real as cancer, diabetes, or arthritis... The only way out of it is treatment and knowing what to do during an episode. At 40 I am finally doing that. Medication, therapy, research and learning.
It is difficult to have to face more and more exactly how extensive this hidden and undiscovered disorder has affected my life, my husband's life, the lives of my children and countless others that have had a brush with me over the years. It makes me so sad. I wish I could have those years back. Where would I be now? What more would I have accomplished? How much hurt could have been avoided?
I can't answer these questions, and I can't change the past. While I find it difficult to stop dwelling on that past, I find extreme comfort in finally talking to doctors who are telling me what is wrong with me, validating what I tell them, treating me and helping me gain the skills I have so sorely been lacking my entire life. I don't feel so alone, isolated or like I am just plain an incurably bad person.
I have so much more discovery, learning, reconnecting, reconciliation, and coming to terms to do. Sometimes it feels like a mountain I won't be able to climb. With therapy, medication, love, education, music and acceptance I believe I will be able to find a more normal and happy life that I didn't even know existed. I wrote a song during a particularly bad low last week. I am much better today. I have been reaching out to some female friends for girl time, I am putting myself out there for another music project, I have dedicated myself to being prepared to go solo if things fall apart, we are having a party, and I am trying to keep from sliding into the high. So far I feel like things are even, maybe the mood stabilizers are working. Staying strong, moving forward, and working through the setbacks, it's all I can do. All that and also writing and sharing these experiences. Getting it out is a whole other form of therapy. If I have to go through all this, maybe it is so that I can shed some light, give someone else the courage to get help, and maybe let someone else know they are not alone.
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