Is It Me (or My Bipolar)?

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.

Except for the hours I would spend in my bed, curled up, watching show after show of episodes I didn’t watch during the week, because I had to focus on school. And work. And clubs. And papers. And reading. And studying. And all the things college kids do to book as much into one day as humanly possible. 

If there were minutes on the handwritten holy grail that was my calendar, I would accept invitations to study groups, opportunities to sub for a friend’s intramural team, and anything else that made me feel alive. 

And then I would crash. Back then I was so grateful! So thankful that it was easy for me to “turn it on” and engage with people when I needed to. I could talk to almost anyone, and I didn’t really over think their opinion of me. Most of the time. I found it easy to connect with people. I thrived in areas that made college in and of itself for some people, so hard. I LOVED college. But I also see a lot of manic and depressive episodes in my college years. Episodes I explained away at the time, but I look back post diagnosis and see those “explosive” parts of myself as beautiful … and bipolar. 

I get really passionate about things. Sometimes I raise my voice to make a point, and I don’t even realize how loud I am because I’m just that excited. Tony loves this about me. “You can feel so deeply … it’s like a light switch and you get flipped.” One of the first times I felt ACTUALLY seen was when he described me this way. My ability to feel so deeply is something I’ve always loved about myself. It’s also something I always knew was slightly different about me. I don’t just cry at movies. I cry at 3 minute mini movies (10 seconds in) about business owners and how they grew something from nothing. 

Is that passionate and overly empathetic nature a part of my bipolar?

My empathy for others is deeply rooted in who I am as a person. I’ve always been able to feel for others and create space for others, no matter what their level of pain. Understanding hurt so deep, simply after years of watching and learning. I’ve always had an interest in how people act and why they act the way that they do. Before I had my own trauma and my own low to compare to, I could feel the depths of other people’s pain. Pre diagnosis I often found myself caring for others so deeply that I would often not prioritize caring for myself.

Is this level of feeling part of my bipolar brain?

I look back on episodes where I was left deflated. Exhausted and dehydrated. Emotionally and physically drained. Times where I extended myself just past a breaking point. And then a little bit further. These were not times to be grateful that I always seem to remember things, just in time, at the most random of times. These were not times to be bragging that my internal clock always woke me up between 4:30 and 5:40am, so I might as well get a morning workout in, or head to the office early so I can fit some extra meetings in. 

These were times where I pushed myself to unhealthy extremes. Went further than my normal bad habits of five or six hours of sleep on a good night, and got three hours during a peak event time. One, maybe two meals a day and less than 16 ounces of water. I could get so much done by always multitasking and always taking advantage of every possible minute. 

Did I treat my body and my brain so bad because of the bipolar or is that just me?

When I was told that I would need to sleep two to four more hours a night, be on my email at least one hour less a day (but probably more), and should be working towards nearly no multitasking throughout the work day, I thought there would be no possible way for me to return to work and succeed. But I actually THRIVED.

In 2019 I did not cry AT work once. I am not ashamed of crying, but I was getting a little sick of feeling like I always cried when I was frustrated, and then not being able to make my point as effectively, for fear of breaking down. It wasn’t until I started sleeping more, and multitasking less that I realized my “at work crying” was often the result of my being sleep deprived, over exerting myself, and not finding enough moments for presence and reflection during a busy work day.

Was my bipolar brain hurting me? Or were those hypomanic states some of my best work?

I won’t lie, there are days I still feel upset for the first few hours of the day because I can’t get out of bed before 7:30, and I used to never sleep past 7:30. EVER. The day has just begun and I already feel behind compared to my former self.

There were days in treatment where my neck would snap to attention after dozing off to sleep an hour into group therapy, and then jolt forward when I realized I had somehow made it to therapy to begin with. Many days I wondered if my bright and bubbly personality would ever come around again, because it was more important to keep me on medications that kept my brain activity more moderate, and ensured my sleep was significantly increased, than to double check my bubbly personality hadn’t gone away for good.

Some people don’t take their medications because they crave the high so much. For the first year after my episode I was so terrified of having a high that high again, that I wouldn’t even THINK to not take my medication. Flashbacks and broken memories of me crying in the shower with an 8-week-old Oscar, and wishing I could stop myself from doing and saying all of the things that weren’t making any sense. I remember wishing I could just take a shower and go to bed. For whatever reason I couldn’t just take a shower and go to bed. My brain would not stop. 

When will this bipolar brain come back?

I’ve had a healthy year. My handful of highs and lows were all relatively moderate and extremely controlled. I was fortunate to find a medication combination that started working almost instantly during inpatient. I had a few cloudy weeks, some slight weight gain, and some expected anxiety and depression in the weeks following my diagnosis and during the beginning weeks in treatment.

My first true “ramping up” I’ve seen, since the episode that resulted in hospitalization, was just before my Bipolar Brought Balance launch. I was wrapping up the busy year at work with final events, speaking slots and planning meetings going into the holiday season. I was also putting the final touches on my mental health advocacy launch. There were some exciting things already created that I couldn’t wait to share into the world, and some upcoming projects that I was working on as well. 

As everything collided on the calendar a week before my launch, Tony took an opportunity to check in with me. How are you feeling? Have you been doing alot of hours for work? What about the blog and instagram account? Do you feel like you’ve still been getting good sleep? Is there a point where you think you might be worried or start to take a deeper look and check to make sure you’re not doing too much?

He was being kind, but I knew what he was saying: I’m concerned. 

I’m so grateful that he felt comfortable asking me those questions. I tell my inner circle to always feel comfortable asking me questions like that. If I’m defensive about those questions for no reason, after being asked in a calm and respectable manner, that is a red flag. 

At that particular time, I was ok. I was excited, and working on a lot, but I wasn’t staying up late or skipping pills to get more done. I wasn’t allowing my brain to ‘run away on me’ and pour out ideas in an unhealthy flow that leads to lack of eating, sleep, pausing for mindfulness and being present. I was just excited.

On days when it’s hard to write a blog post, or come up with something to share on my instagram, I wonder if it’s because I’m “dampening” myself with my medication. I don’t allow myself those long nights of multiple iPhone notes and scribble on note pads that only really made sense if I had infinite money and/or infinite time. I still walk a very fine line of trusting myself, and not knowing if I’ll ever trust myself again.

Does it matter if it's bipolar or just my version of me?

My therapist says no. I’m still undecided. 

Taking the time to get the treatment is something I was afforded, and luckily in a headspace to do fully the first time. I’m not saying that means there won’t be a second (or third or fourth or fifth), but even though it was the first, I chose to treat it like I wanted it to be the last. 

I learned about my brain. I learned about things I could control, and things I couldn’t. More importantly I learned how to deal with those things I couldn’t control and the issues that may stem from my desire to constantly control.

Not many people are given the opportunity to learn about and focus on their brain and their mental health for three months uninterrupted. I was given that opportunity. I don’t find myself any less beautiful in the process, but I certainly battle every day to bring beauty to my bipolar and find beauty in my life. 

The face of bipolar in the media and mainstream stream society can be scary and unlovable. I hope to demask that stigma by sharing the story of me. Much of my beauty is in my bipolar, and that’s the beauty in me.