Hey, y’all –
I was thinking about when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, compared to how I feel about it now.
I realize I had a decision to make when I received the diagnosis. I had 3 choices: I could deny it, I could fight it, or I could accept it.
Everyone is different, but I think everyone picks one of those three choices when it comes to the disorder.
I’ve known people who deny it. They have every symptom of the disorder… they even have other people who have told them that they have bipolar disorder… they probably even suspect deep inside that they have it… but they will still deny that they have the disorder.
Then there are people who fight the diagnosis. They believe what the doctor says, because they have been experiencing the symptoms, but they still fight the diagnosis. After all, they might think, who wants to be labeled with a tag of mental illness?
These are people who will keep their disorder a secret. Who will not let anyone know that they have it. They will try their best not to show any symptoms, to act “like any other normal person.” Which can turn around and bite them back, because nobody’s perfect, and that kind of stress and tension is bound to set off their symptoms – maybe even be a trigger to a bipolar episode.
Then there are those who accept their diagnosis. For many, it takes a long time to get to this acceptance stage.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross proposed that there are 5 stages to the grief process, and only at the last stage is there acceptance. I think bipolar disorder is like that. And it takes some longer than others to reach it.
I accepted my diagnosis right away. All my life, I knew deep inside that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I believed I was crazy. One day I was way up, and the next day I was way down (most of the time I was way down). I went through most of my life that way – holding in this secret, scared that if anyone found out what I was really like, or how I really felt, why, they would lock me up forever.
I did all the usual bipolar manic behaviors, and had major consequences to pay – like go through multiple divorces, because I married men during manic episodes.
But when I was told that I have bipolar disorder, I was actually relieved. I finally had a name for my “craziness.” And I especially accepted it when I found out it was NOT MY FAULT! That really released me emotionally. Then I was further released when I found out I WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE! That there were millions of other people out there who also have bipolar disorder!
Today I am stable. Today I discuss my disorder openly, if it will help just one other person. I talk about it through the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) In Our Own Voice program. Talking about my mental illness helps me to remember that I may not be cured, but I am stable, and have found that there really is such a thing as recovery for someone who has bipolar disorder.
I wish I could tell every single person that has bipolar disorder (and their supporters) that there IS recovery from the disorder! For those still fighting it, be hopeful for stability. It can happen for even the worst cases – I am living proof of that!
Wishing you peace and stability,
Michele
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