Dealing
With Diagnosis
By Indigo
Blue
I went to see Christa, a psychologist, because I
was constantly irritable. I
seemed to feel this way independent of a reason.
It was like PMS irritability, but it was lasting longer. I felt for my children.
It was mostly for them that I went.
Christa asked about recent events. I had felt unusually good.
Wayyyyyy good. I
felt so good that even though I was going to a conservative Christian
seminary, getting my eyebrow pierced and a tattoo on the same day seemed
like a great idea! As a
person with bipolar disorder, a frequent refrain of mine is, “It
seemed like a good idea at the time.”
When she diagnosed me as Bipolar Disorder II, I
thought it was funny. I did
not take it seriously enough to take the recommended LITHIUM.
That stuff was for seriously crazy people, I reasoned.
It didn’t occur to me that the wreckage behind me (my life and
past) was an indicator that I qualified for seriously crazy.
This is called denial. In
denial you wonder what is wrong with everybody else.
You question your therapist’s training.
Surely, not I, you say.
Yes, I. Indeed
I was bipolar, but I slipped through the system and ended up doing talk
therapy for three months, until I learned that I was pregnant. I stopped therapy completely, then. I cannot emphasize enough
how much my arrogance could have cost me.
It is now standard that not prescribing medication for a person
who is bipolar is malpractice. Things
could have gone very far south, and I don’t mean to Florida.
I continued to cycle until 6 weeks ago, when I was so sick that I
was incapable of driving safely. My
thoughts raced wildly, and EVERYTHING was funny.
And I got to the hospital on the good side of hypomania!
In my life I have experienced hypomanias that escalated into
rages that compelled me to kill myself.
And it seemed like a good idea at the time!
Right now there are scars on my wrists.
I have had my stomach pumped from overdosing on pills.
I have hurt and frightened people I care about trying to throw
myself out of a moving car. That
was hypomania. Depressions
that followed crippled me, and robbed me of years of time enjoying what
and who is important to me.
So, what do you do when you get diagnosed as having
Bipolar Disorder? Here
are Some Suggestions
