Gwen
Keeping life from going over the edge

Last month was the ten-year anniversary of my first hospitalization for mental illness.  I was a senior in college, on track to graduate a semester early.  Then I was sent home for Thanksgiving with a medical “Incomplete” for the semester.  My professors knew that something was wrong, but they didn't know what it was.  One professor had seen me walking across campus in lightweight clothing and no coat in 25-degree weather.  I had confessed to another that I’d almost gotten hit by a truck while crossing the street because I was not aware of my surroundings.  We all had chalked it up to sleep deprivation.  I had not eaten a square meal in a week and hadn’t slept through an entire night in nearly a month!  I was worried that I would never be able to write a paper again because my thoughts were racing so much.  My professors said I should rest over the holidays and they would see me in January. 

I did go back to school to complete my undergraduate degree in Sociology, but not until the following January.  In the meantime, I walked dogs as a form of therapy disguised as a part-time job.

That first hospitalization was rough.  Hospitalization can be dehumanizing at times.  At times I was not treated like a person that was able to think, dream, or even care for myself at all.  First, I didn’t feel like I was alive.  Then I felt like I was locked up.  Then I felt like I was losing what little mental control I did have because of the cloud of medicines I was taking.   Then I started to explain my situation to the right people and they got me off of all the medicines that made me shake and drool and on to one especially for bipolar disorder.  Since I reacted well to it and was functional within a week, I was officially diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. 

My experience with this disorder has been somewhat different from most people’s.  I have been hospitalized three times for major manic episodes, but I have never experienced even a minor depressive episode.  I have endangered my life through recklessness and inattention when I was manic, but I have never considered anything close to suicide.  I believe that I have unipolar manic disorder even though that is not an official diagnosis in the DSM-IV.  It makes sense to me.  My experiences with this illness all involve things like mania and hyperactivity, hyperthyroidism, and other words with prefixes like hyper, over, above, high, extra.  I am in my early thirties.  I think if I were going to experience depression I would have experienced it by now.

Before every one of my hospitalizations I had a period of extreme activity (such as competing in a varsity sport, training to be a lifeguard, or outdoor rock climbing) followed by an abrupt halt (the season was over, the classes were completed, the vacation ended).  Since I have recognized this pattern in my life, I plan not to repeat it.  I exercise regularly, but not to an extreme.  I am especially careful to stay hydrated and full of electrolytes during the summer months when I am naturally more active. 

I have also finished my Masters Degree in Curriculum and Instruction.  My ideas are not as grandiose as they once were when I was ill, but I still have hopes and dreams for the future.  I just take time to work out a plan that makes sense for me as I try to make my way in society.  Currently, I tutor students with dyslexia and work at a children’s museum facilitating informal learning experiences.  This makes more sense for me than a job in a school.  Having two jobs that I enjoy and excel in is quite an accomplishment and I am thankful for both positions.  Plus, the flexibility of part-time work gives me a chance to catch up on sleep and devote time to therapy and self-education related to my disorder.

I explain my condition to friends and family this way:  Most people have normal ups and downs.  I have ups and downs as well.  It’s just that my baseline is much higher than other people.  When I am having a down day, it is like a normal day for most people.  I am generally an upbeat, cheerful, patient and thoughtful person.  But when I get a little up, it is too much for most people that are around me.  I am told that I am way too intense, too excited, an extreme perfectionist, or an overachiever - and these things are not meant as compliments.  They are meant as complaints that my behavior, mood, and attitude are disruptive to the regular flow of discussion or day-to-day operations.  So, if my mood hypes up even more, I will be on the verge of an acute episode without even having any major event trigger it.  Seemingly minor things, like missing just one day of medicine coupled with a hectic day at work could lead to my dismissal due to my hypersensitivity or overreaction.  If I just miss a few hours of sleep a couple nights in a row, I could be irritable or hyper-concentrated enough to accidentally seriously offend a colleague with my inattention to their comments or suggestions. 

By keeping a watch on my warning signs (such as irritation by the tags in my clothes and small tremors in my hands after a small amount of activity), I have been able to avoid a major manic episode for five years.  But I have to keep constant watch on my reactions and energy level to make sure they are within an acceptable range.  Just keeping up with my condition is like having an additional job.

I have been going to talk therapy for a year now and it has been extremely helpful in understanding my behavior, my family system, my own thoughts and interpretations, my self-distrust due to my label as a mentally ill person, and my biology. 

I think of my medication as an element that my brain chemistry is lacking.  This helps me take it without mental struggles.  I take vitamins and minerals every day to supplement my diet and my medicine is another supplement that my body needs in order to function properly. Sometimes I learn just by talking things through or by educating myself by using the mental health resources available, but often I have to have a painful or disturbing experience before I actually learn what is important for me to do or not do.

I plan to get married to my long time best friend (who has been there for me through two hospitalizations) in the next two years.  I hope to have children if I can be sure that I will be stable without my medicine or if I can find an alternative medicine that works equally well.  If not, I plan to adopt.  I have to admit that I am somewhat afraid to have a baby.  I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle the inevitable lack of sleep with my disorder.  These decisions about my own adult family life, like every decision I’ve made since I found out that I have this condition, must be made carefully so that I don’t cause myself too much stress.  I’m learning that there are lots of ways to enjoy what life has to offer, without going over the edge, just by being more aware.