Shit, I'm bipolar.

I'm bipolar

Couple days ago I found out I'm bipolar.

Ok, let's rewind a little bit.

Maybe two weeks ago I was thinking about my mood swings and how sometimes I act completely crazy and out of control out of nowhere. I've been taking antidepressants and having a fairly stable life for a while so I couldn't understand WHY THAT KEPT HAPPENING.

So, like some sort of insight I thought about Bipolar Disorder. I'm not a psychologist, I had little knowledge about BHD, but some universe call kept telling me that it was it.

I google it and started reading about it. At a first glance, it didn't seem like I fit all the criterias, so I thought that maybe I had some symptons of bipolar disorder but not the condition itself. Just like what I have with OCD.

I kept that in the back of my mind and didn't think about it until my appointment with my psychiatrist. Appointment went as usual, I complained about my insomnia etc. And when the appointment was gettint to an end I talked about maybe having some signs of mania-depressive episodes.

As I started talking about my psychiatrist seemed really interested. Like some of my symptons were finally making sense. And she said that I had bipolar disorder. And that's also why, taking Effexor wasn't making me better, but the opposite, it was making me worst : antidepressants make you cycle faster, so my mood swings were faster and more often. Also, BHD explained my skin picking disorder that is totally related to lack of impulse control. And also the insomia.

She also made some questions if I had episodes of higher libido, of being over sexual. But I'll come back to that in a secod.

She prescribed me a humor stabilizer, ambien and reduced my effexor dosage.

I had another appointment the other day. But I kept thinking about that. Shit. Was I bipolar?

The next day, appointment went as usual but I started with the "I might have bipolar disorder" statement. So I spend an hour of my life talking about my long mental illness historic : treating it since 2017, taking all kinds of antidepressants, never feeling better, increasing insomnia, anxiety, indecision and any other problem you can list.

She made questions about my drinking habits, use of drugs, sexual impulses, mood changes.

She stated that there was a high probability that I had Bipolar Disorder Type 2, but she would talk to my family and run some tests just to make sure. But it was almost certain. She lowered effexor dosage, gave me a humor stabilizer and ambien as well.

Ok. So that was it. I was bipolar. Iam bipolar. Holy shit. I'm like Carrie Mathieson without the good part (the CIA job).

I was kind of shocked. I got home, opened like two dozens of websites about bipolar disorder. And it all made sense. Some behaviors. Somethings that happened. My out-of-control drinking. Why I wasn't getting better with any medication. My highs and lows. Everything. It fitted to a tee.

Now, I had a hard decision to make. Telling my mom or not.

My parents never knew how to deal with my mental illness. Or with me, in general. And I don't blame them. At all. They didn't have to.

I feel like being diagnosed with "anxiety" or "depression" weights different than bipolar. Anxiety and depression became kind of popular nowadays. It's still a serious illness, but, you know... Mainstream. Everyone knows someone that sufferes from that. But bipolar? That's a whole other level.

I felt like if I told my mom, maybe, she would understand me a little bit. She would understand why I act the way I act sometimes. Why, even though I'm taking meds, I don't get better. Why I'm suddenly depressed even though my life is almost perfect. Why I'm skinpicking even when she told me not too. Maybe she would understand that nothing is my fault. It never was.

Bipolar is also a chronicle condition. I'm never getting rid of the medications, and from time to time, I might have mania or depression episodes again.

Also, in bipolar disorder, family play a bigger role in the treatment. Often, relatives need to go to psychoterapy to learn to deal with their bipolar relatives. Learning not to trigger an episode or not judging a behavior.

So, by being bipolar, the blame, the fault, the treatment it's not only on my shoulder.

I felt like my mom often thought that I didn't get better of my supposed anxiety or depression because I didn't try hard enough. I didn't go to therapy. I had a bad mood. I had a pessimistic view of life. I was moody. I was addicted to insomia pills, and not that I actually had insomnia. She thought it was pointless for me to take antidepressants for so long, that I should get rid of them.

And know, I had an explanation. For all of these.

Or at least I thought so.

Ok, so I decided to tell her.

I was nervous as fuck when the time for her to come home was approaching. I had a xanax and tried to calm the fuck down.

She arrived home, made small talk.

"Mom, so, the reason why all this time, not a single medicine worked out it's because I had the wrong diagnosis. I don't have anxiety. I'm bipolar"

I could see tears appearing in my mom's eyes. Her lips trembling.

"What? You? Bipolar"

"Yes. The other doctor said the same thing, and this one just confirmed. So, I'm changing meds and this time it's like, for the rest of my life"

She made some statements about "you don't look bipolar to me" or "I always thought that bipolar was.... I don't know"

Anyway, I could feel the tension building so I did what every adult does in a situtation like that : locked myself in my room.

Which only gave me 5 minutes of peace before my mom stormed in and started talking about how the medication that the doctor prescribed was dangerous, that it was for epilepsy, that it had a lot of side effects (I've been taking meds that side effects includes "suicide" for the last 4 years, not really a problem).

She made a whole bunch of questions and complaints. I got stressed. Luckily I was calm on xanax. Popped an ambien, and slept like a baby.

But that, was only the beggining.