Two years ago this morning I was transported by ambulance from Froedtert hospital to Rogers Behavioral Health in Oconomowoc. I voluntarily checked myself in with an illegible scribble on the intake form. Just barely awake and functional after the night prior when I was sedated, strapped to a hospital bed and pumped with fluids. I had experienced my first manic episode that resulted in hospitalization, and I was being admitted to an inpatient mental health facility.

“Grab me two chocolate milks. And one apple juice!” I yell to Willie from the salad bar as he piles cartons of milk and plastic juice cups onto a tray. Everyone looks like they just rolled out of bed for the entirety of inpatient, but Willie had that special sweatpant swagger. The inpatient issued outfit - a groutfit. Drawstring pants with cuffed bottoms and a crew neck sweatshirt. No drawstrings in the pants of course, and the cherry on top? His blue slip-on shoes with white socks.

Mania is something I’ve feared since October 2018. Naked, sobbing, on the floor in our bathroom, while clutching an 8-week old puppy. “I just need to take a shower and get some sleep” I screamed through the tears.” Tony looking straight through what was left of me—terrified. My brain was on absolute overdrive. I started to notice something was wrong earlier that day, but the mania had been coming on and building up for days.

Throughout the month of May I had a handful of opportunities to share my story in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month. Each of these opportunities was unique and targeted a different audience, but every opportunity provided a new platform for me to be real and raw about my story and experiences. I enjoyed these occasions and am inspired to find ways to continue to partner with others and share my story and experiences beyond Mental Health Awareness Month. 

Mental Health Awareness Month was started back in 1949 by Mental Health America as a way to fight stigma, provide support, educate the public, and advocate for policies that support people with mental illness as well as their families. This May I’m honored to be sharing my own story and experiences in the hope of helping others. My biggest goal this month is to support and spread NAMI’s (National Alliance on Mental Illness) 2020 message of Mental Health for All.

There is a lot we can not control in the world right now. Coronavirus has forced many of us to completely alter our day-to-day lives. Being told to stay at home unless absolutely necessary is something none of us have ever lived through. With uncertainty and lack of control often comes anxiety, stress, fear and much more. These 11 tips don’t fix everything, but they help to positively influence most things in my life. On the days I do more, I often feel better. 

Right now the world is a scary place for ALL of us. But some more than others. The uncertainty of what’s to happen in the coming days and weeks has many of us in sheer panic. It’s written on our minds, hearts and faces; the inability to see the end and a lingering fear that it will get worse before it gets better. We’ve never lived through anything like this. The closest thing would be the early 1900s when the Spanish Flu infected 500 million people around the world. I’m not even sure the Coronavirus can be compared, but we won’t know for a while. 

It wasn’t until I learned that being an introvert means getting your energy from being alone, not not enjoying being around people, that I knew I was introverted. Where you get your energy from. That made so much sense to me. In college I was about as extroverted as you can get. I did everything, down to my laundry, with someone else. Being with people was just always better.

I watch a lot of TV. Not reality TV, real TV. I watch all the shows. Sitcoms sometimes, but mainly dramas. I love me some Grey’s Anatomy, How To Get Away With Murder, A Million Little Things and most of all This Is Us. I watch these shows to feel something. When I’m having a good week, I watch them when I have time. Enjoying the plotlines, anticipating what’s coming next based on visual queues and music.

Anthony Michael LoMenzo. Tone. This man has been with me through my darkest days, and has sat patiently while I worked to re-find, and rebuild myself in the wake of diagnosis. Hugging me when I cry, without trying to fix everything for me. Or anything. Tony and I first met many years ago; some time when he was in middle school, I was in high school. My brother and him were in a group of friends during their misfit years. Bonded together by the death of one of their own, too early on. When they boys went to college they walked similar paths for a handful of years. 

Bipolar disorder at a very basic level is ‘a disorder associated with episodes of mood swings ranging from depressive lows to manic highs’. It does not mean that one minute I am happy and chatting with you about the weather, and the next I’m screaming at you about a deadline. People have a picture of bipolar disorder, and I’m here to tell you that picture is not encompassing of all the ways people living with bipolar disorder actually look. 

I’ve lived in a mental hospital. That’s something I never thought I’d say. It was only 6 days. I shouldn’t say that ... It was 6 days. Growing up, there was a mental health hospital in the middle of my suburb. It was up on a hill, tucked back on a long driveway, surrounded by lots of trees. We would tell ‘spooky stories’ with our friends about what happened when people ran away from there, and what it was like inside. 

One year ago today was the scariest day of my life. After a 4 day build up, I had my first manic episode resulting in hospitalization, a bipolar diagnosis, 6 days of inpatient treatment, and 11 weeks of outpatient treatment. 12 weeks of *surreal experiences,* on every level, daily. Everything changed for me on October 16th, 2018. An episode. I lived through a transition. As if watching myself through clouds or a fuzzy screen. Then I was spit back out to my old life.