My Manic ExperienceMy first experience with bipolar disorder occurred about a year ago at the end of my junior year. This is about bipolar 1, so its not about mood swings that happen on a day to day to day basis. I have had that but nothing that ever really got out of hand.It began when there was a weeklong period where I only slept every other day. In that time I time I took my Precalculus final and wrote absolutely nothing on it as my thoughts were racing so fast I could not concentrate on math for even a minute, before my thoughts traveled to other, greener pastures. In my life I never had too much luck with the ladies, so I asked out the future president of the school, who I had had pleasant times with in the past but had not talked to at all more recently. Of course I was softly rejected, but this did not faze me at all. There was a week some time later where I did not sleep at all when I scared two other girls away. I pretty much cut my chances to zero when I blurted out that I had not slept in five days. Loose lips was also common theme when I was manic. After a two week stint in an institution (where I came out just as bad as I went in), I told it to practically everyone I had a conversation with as if it was an everyday thing that most people had done.
My delusions were acute and common in the realm of mental illness. Near the end of the episode, I believed I was the human incarnation of god himself, and earlier on I thought I was the anti-christ, and proud of it. My delusions came in cycles, and I thought I was finding out everything about the universe as reality continued to unravel.
I found myself wandering for miles for entire days, not knowing where I was going or why I was going there. But at the same time I believed that these walks had an important purpose. Of course I never told my parents where I was. I couldn't tell them if I tried. I also stole my mom's car on 2 occasions and my friend's (he was very cool about it, he could tell I was unstable at the time). Thank god I was not pulled over, because I did not have a license.
When I first was taken to a hospital I was put in a room by myself. My parents were talking to the doctors there about getting me into a mental ward, and when I heard this I was determined to get out of there. They had a security guard by the door so I couldn't do this, so I told the guy I had to go to the bathroom. When I came out, I turned the other way without looking back. I stopped at various bathrooms on the way to the exit to keep hidden. When I got out I was determined to walk all the way home, which was probably fifteen miles away. Fortunately, (unfortunately at the time in my mind) my dad found me. They had called the police to try and bring me back.
I actually went to a mental ward twice, and I found It unbearable. The only consolation I had was the other patients there who were mostly pretty cool. I came in there with a bit of a Jack Nicholson attitude, all about how the hospital staff didn't care, and how nobody who was in there was actually crazy. After I came out the second time I was still in the same state of mind, and was put in juvie for a week and a half after threatening my dad with a steak knife. It was in the clink when I finally was able to look back and see what I had done.
I am very grateful that my depression symptoms were not as extreme as my manic ones, but they were definately there. At least I was able to get out of bed, but I could really feel no motivation to do so half the time. There was a lot of shame about the past, which is one of the hardest things to get over after having a psychotic break. It;s really hard for other people to look at you the same way again, and it's hard to look at yourself the same way also. But I think Im finally jumping that gap, and I am able to look to the future positively for the first time in a while.
I really feel better writing this down, I think it was a good way to put that behind, and focus on how to prevent something like it happening again.