acceptance

I Can’t Accept Bipolar Is Making Me Sick

→ August 23, 2015 - 31 Comments

I Can’t Accept Bipolar Is Making Me Sick

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder 17 years ago and, yet, I still can’t accept the fact that bipolar makes me sick on a daily basis. When the bipolar symptoms come, my natural inclination is to deny them, or at least deny that they are caused by a brain illness. I want to think to myself that I’m just having a bad day or I didn’t sleep well last night or I’m coming down with something. I want to think that something normal and transient is causing my symptoms. I don’t want to think it’s something out of my control and long-lasting. Even with all my experience, my mind still doesn’t want to accept that my bipolar is the thing making me sick.

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Breakthrough Bipolar Events

→ May 16, 2013 - 26 Comments

Breakthrough Bipolar Events

I was driving in my car yesterday morning, groceries in the back, a freshly frothed latte in the front, when I flipped to a radio station, heard one line of a song and started crying. The song lyric is inconsequential; I knew that then and know it now. What is consequential is that my bipolar disorder heard the song and used it as an excuse to be upset. My depression, my loathing, creeping, squirming depression, popped its fucking head up and made me burst into tears for no reason on a perfectly functional Wednesday morning. I had a breakthrough bipolar event.

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Acceptance of Bipolar Disorder is a Process

→ February 7, 2012 - 38 Comments

Acceptance of Bipolar Disorder is a Process

I remember the day, or rather, the night, about 13 years ago when I discovered I had bipolar disorder. I did exactly what I tell people not to do: I went online and diagnosed myself. In my case, I happened to be right.

I remember the extreme pain, fear and shame I felt at realizing I had a mental illness. I remember the indignation I felt at the idea that I would have to take medication for the rest of my life. Mostly though, I remember the tears. I remember the candy apple-red face stained with hundreds of tears. That’s what I remember the most.

But that was 13 years ago and a lot has happened since. One thing I have learned though is that I didn’t accept my mental illness that night. Nor the next. I didn’t truly accept my mental illness for years.

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