World Bipolar Day 2022: “The deeper your scars, the more room there is to fill them up with love. Don't hate your scars, appreciate their depth."
It's been 13 years now since I was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder after decades of psychiatrists, psychologists, PCP's, bartenders, spouses, families, psych wards, and dozens of other people who just "said I was depressed."
Mental illness packs a harsh reaction among anybody. As an expert cog in the public health system myself, bipolar on your rap sheet stops people in their tracks. “She has a history of chronic anemia…oh and SHE IS BIPOLAR.” “Ooooh…”
OK..yes, but then why the high high highs and low low lows? I KNEW something was gravely wrong--it was just getting someone to actually hear me out. I might not have taken so many narcotics or too much to drink if my illness wasn't met with such vitriol and shaming. I hated my first outpatient shrink, but he hit the nail on the head after a few months.
Can I just say that being on psychotropic medications, and knowing I have to take these medications for the rest of my life sucks?
It's very interesting to note that the vast majority of people with bipolar disorder (I or 2) actually wouldn't trade our lives or press a button and turn off the illness. We are different. We are fascinating & smart & brave.
I love what I HATE is happening to me most. Now, coming to terms with the shock to the system and trying to suss out if there's a healthy outlet can be really difficult, considering. In lieu of carrying around an immensely heavy bag of burning hot coals, while walking on black ice, hogtied, God blessed, I have been gifted as a drummer & a writer.
My moods flow from bad to better to stable. And the reverse. And then again. And again. I am not crazy. I am not bipolar. I have bipolar disorder.
