Hypomania : How moving brought on my first mini episode post hospitalization

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. A new puppy blinding me to the reality of racing thoughts, irrational connections, and a vision of the future that felt intuitive, but was far more “out there” and loosely based in fact. I was in the peak of a manic episode and was only hours from being contained in the lobby of our local hospital by a few security and police officers before being strapped to a bed, sedated, and pumped with fluids.

The next morning I woke up in a haze surrounded by a handful of medical professionals and my parents. They explained that I was being transported by ambulance to a local mental health hospital. I was safe, my work had been notified, and everything would be alright. That’s what they told me.

Through a fog and haze I was rolled into the lobby on a gurney where I “voluntarily” checked myself into Rogers Behavioral Health Facility in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. I met with Dr. Levenhagen for about 30 minutes and was told that I was having a manic episode. I felt scared, but not necessarily shocked. That word was familiar to me. Manic. I have spent time with my aunt during her manic episodes and saw the intensity in her behaviors and actions. Dr. Levenhagen told me I was going to be given some medication and able to rest for the next 18-24 hours in my room and then we would talk about where to go from there. He was fairly confident I had a bipolar disorder diagnosis, given my family history, but we wouldn’t discuss that until the following day.

For the next six days I would wake up at 5am, which is typical for me, but felt strange now. I would slowly get dressed and make my way to the common area. I didn’t want to have too much time to spare by myself before treatment started because it only highlighted the buzzing that was still happening in my body. My mind would race. When I would get to the kitchen and still have time to spare before we walked down to breakfast, I would put away the few books and supplies that were out in the common area. When I still couldn’t seem to slow myself down I would ask the nurse if I could have 25 milligrams of my medication for sleep. To stop the cleaning and the organizing. To stop the constant stream of thought. When I’m “high” or manic I feel like I’m buzzing. My brain processes at a rapid pace, I have lots of energy and oftentimes I’m extremely productive. 

I think manic episodes that went undetected in my twenties were mostly undetected due to a lot of positive outcomes as a result of mania as opposed to large scale mistakes or earth-shattering moments.  October 2018 was different. Not in the sense that I created mass destruction in my life, but because my lack of sleep had compounded to a place that left me incomprehensible by the evening of October 16th 2018. I was unable to form complete sentences and had a hard time following what Tony was saying. I was exhausted, but my brain just wouldn’t stop. Telling me to putter around our apartment and clean up all of the messes I had made, even though I knew I needed a shower and some rest. 

Even though I can see some incredible outcomes from previous waves of mania, I’ve never once been excited or thought fondly on the idea of mania or having manic feelings post-hospitalization. I’ve certainly been looking over my shoulder for the next episode to come my way, but out of fear. Not excitement. 

Eighteen months post-hospitalization I still had not experienced anything noteworthy beyond a few days of heightened or decreased mood and motivation. These mini-episodes were typically related to work responsibilities or projects and had yet to feel overwhelming. Moving on June 1 was certainly something I considered as a potential trigger for mania, but I also had expectations of how the few days would go. I’m a planner and have a history of getting new places set up in a weekend’s time. For this move, I hired movers. Even though it is less than 10 minutes between apartments, we have acquired a decent amount of furniture and belongings. Plus, why subject yourself to stress and unnecessary disagreements with your loved ones when you can simply pay professionals? 

It was your typical multi-tasking day of responsibilities and running air traffic control. I was directing movers most of the morning, while also cleaning behind them and working to coordinate our new WiFi installation. Alot was happening at once. I designated the following day to clean out our old space. I got a bit frazzled that morning when it became clear I was way behind my scheduled cleaning timeline. I called my mom for help and she came to meet me in no time. By this point, I could feel myself displaying signs of hypomania. I was on edge and easily irritable. I was also bouncing all over the place and not completing one cleaning task before moving on to the next, which is a sure sign I’m ramping up. I had not been able to sleep well the night prior. It was our first night in the new place and I think after an especially long and fast-paced day I was in a place of heightened energy rather than feeling exhausted.

That’s the thing about mania and people with bipolar disorder. A sleepless night for me is not the same experience as it is for a “normal” person. A normal person might have a day where it’s hard to keep your eyes open, you’re lethargic, potentially on edge. You’ll feel run down and exhausted. After a night of light sleep I’ll feel energized and extremely productive. This will compound on itself and allow me to operate on less and less sleep until I hit an absolute breaking point. Typically my responsibilities, an event, or work trip are over and then I get some sleep and reset. But if I attach to something and allow myself to run away, I’ve learned that things can get very scary.

In my case this June, I started to get more concerned two days after our move, when I went to grab coffee and breakfast before starting my work from home day. In the parking lot, almost immediately after I stepped out the front door, I felt one of the coffees slip from my grip. The pile of ice began to melt almost instantly as it hit the blacktop and I was immediately on high alert of how many people may have noticed. The dropped coffee was a result of carrying too much and rushing, of course. The staff were so nice and offered to make me another one. While I got my things situated in the car I placed my keys and phone down. After grabbing my new coffee and hitting the road to zip home I started getting into the work mindset for the day. I grabbed all my items from the car and got ready to head inside, but I couldn’t find my phone. It wasn’t in the car, or my pockets, or anywhere that I could see. I was about to set my stuff down inside and head back out to the coffee shop, when suddenly I saw my phone sitting on the front of my windshield. Outside of my car. Stuck under where the wipers rest. 

I am moving too fast. I’m moving TOO fast. I need to slowwwww down.

As I walked into my house I began the inner dialogue and started to ask myself questions. What do I need to do today? What can I eliminate? Where can I find or insert time to slow myself down and practice mindfulness?  I knew that although I was ramping up, this was nowhere near the level of mania I had experienced in 2018. My first verification and validation of that was my sleep. I had been able to get a good night's sleep on the second night in our new place, and was finding my internal dialogue was rapid, but not constant. 

I made it through my morning meetings before calling my colleague Ali. She was one of the people I talked to daily in the week leading up to my hospitalization. Most days more than once! The idea that my mind attached to was work related during my first episode, so the racing thoughts and great ideas were shared with her directly. Because she saw the build up happen first hand, she knows what some of those warning signs are. I told her what had transpired the past few days and her and I started brainstorming pretty quickly. Could I take tomorrow or Friday off? 

Friday. Yes. 

Ok great. Did I want to tell my new boss what was going on? 

You never HAVE to tell anyone, I reminded myself. Discretion is your right and everyone else's especially as it relates to medical information. But for me personally, I feel empowered and have found people often provide space and grace for you when they’re let in and told what’s going on. I chatted with my boss later that afternoon and gave her the scoop. Things weren’t bad, but I needed to do a few things to regain control such as having firm end times each day, taking off Friday, and getting to bed early the next few nights.

I was able to re-stabilize myself by Saturday and Sunday of that week. I deferred a few plans with friends to the following weekend and actively spent time relaxing without making any progress with the apartment. The last thing I wanted to do was take time off and putter around my place getting everything organized at the risk of ramping myself up again. 

All things considered, this hypomanic episode was minor.  If I had to guess, my biggest misstep was a spilled coffee and some horrible driving. Tony didn’t have to beg me to take a shower while I sobbed on the bathroom floor, and I didn’t end up strapped to a hospital bed, or sedated. 

I was extremely lucky. In many ways I’m grateful, but it also leaves me on the edge of my seat for the next one. When will it get serious again? Will I need to be hospitalized again? These are the questions I ask myself, but I’ve also found that I can go stretches without it even crossing my mind at times. That’s the life of a mental health diagnosis. You can grow, find balance, and have an incredible life, but you’re also likely to always have moments where you reflect on the next time you’ll see a high or a low—and all you can do is hope you see it through.  Manic episodes are still something I fear, but after experiencing a hypomanic episode post diagnosis I feel more equipped to handle my mood spikes and I feel confident that I have the ability to slow things down and get back on course.