Six months ago things were fine, the next day I was out of my mind. The thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Suicidal thoughts that would not seem to leave me alone. This was not me. I grew up in a good family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a fantastic girlfriend. Why am I suddenly sleeping all day and having these suicidal thoughts? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my duffel with a few things and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a good taste in my mouth about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were rubbery and inconsistent. One minute I was thinking about jumping into a lake and drowning, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.
After the next few days on the road, I woke up one morning extremely confused and scared by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone in the street. My mind felt like jelly and I decided it was time to find someone. I showed up at my cousin’s house and explained to him that I had found God. His face told me that he thought I was joking. But the more I spoke with him, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my grandma was there to pick me up. After many worried hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
Living Bipolar is no joke. I’m on a ton of pills that make me feel fuzzy and tired even though my thoughts have mellowed out for the most part and I sort of feel like me again. I’m still in a band, but my fellow members are always concerned about how I’m feeling or whether or not I’m going to run away again. My grandparents aren’t quite sure how to deal with bipolar living either. The medication is costing them money, and they keep searching for an end all to this mess. If I don’t take my medication, I start to say things about the world in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve begun going to church twice a week because I want to ask God for help through this. I wish bipolar living didn’t entail a bunch of pills that take me out of myself. But then again I’m not myself when I don’t take the medicine either. It’s hard!
I just have to live one day at a time. My family and I have supper together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How class was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new drummer yet or any shows coming up? But in the back of my mind there is a constant inner dialogue telling me that everyone is judging me for being manic depressive. I wonder if they’re scared of me. They think I could break at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to bipolar living is a difficult thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Brannigan tells me, “Life is a struggle only to teach.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to overcome my aweful feelings of not fitting in. My music is getting better and my drive is getting stronger. With the help of my friends and family, I will turn this bipolar disorder around and use it to fuel me on the path to a successful life.