Long 5 Years, But Feeling Renewed

I sort of figured out I was bipolar by 18. I didn't go for help until 20. After a diagnosis which confirmed my suspicions, I told a medical doctor my thoughts of suicide.

Their reaction was to send me in a cab IMMEDIATELY to a hospital to "get help". I would have really liked to have had at least a book to read or music to listen to while waiting 6 hrs+ in the emergency ward. Instead I was left with my thoughts and nothing else. I did what comes so naturally to me: I lied through my teeth and convinced the staff at the hospital that I was fine and that the doctor had overreacted (I was far too used to faking smiles for them to believe otherwise).

Depression to mania to depression to mania... 21 I gave in and went for help again. This time in a new city. Same diagnosis (so now I really believed it) and their solution was group therapy. I'm the stubborn type that does everything on my own at this point... group therapy...naw. I never answered their calls but I did continue to see my family doctor who now knew my diagnosis and was supplying prescriptions. I took it because it seemed to make a difference (it was easier to sleep at least...).

Then, at 23, I was so depressed and sick of only living to keep from upsetting my friends and family that I decided on my suicide plan. Stop taking the prescribed pills, abandon my 3 jobs, and smoke my money away (tobacco and marijuana). I figured I would spiral downward so hard I would finally be able to jump in front of a train.

The opposite happened. I was pretty much straight manic for 6 months. 48 hrs up to 6 down sort of life; over-thinking for sure. I wasn't happy, but I was no longer obsessed with death. I was obsessed with learning. I wanted to know everything! I read books on Einstein, Newton, quantum mechanics, you name it (but mostly chemesty and physics). I was a sponge for knowledge. After a few too many nights alone in my head I started acting too strange for my friends and family to handle.

While only able in metaphors at my buddy's place, I realized I had to call someone who had great diction and understood connotation - my mom - or I was going to feel like no one understood and sink to a level of depression I had yet to actually experience. I could tell she was worried, but she talked to me. At times she would be too scared by my speech patterns to respond. I would restart the convo every time with the phrase, "Tell me something about yourself." I talked to her right up until the two cops walked in the basement room where I was "chillin".

After a short conversation with one of the officers, I was driven to a local hospital in handcuffs (more for my protection I think - but who knows). I was looking for answers but they wanted me to sleep. I did need sleep, but I didn't know how (for the past 6 months I had basically kept going until I would more or less pass out). Lucky for me, a key piece of info popped into my head as I lay trying to sleep and I was able to do just that.

I woke up in the psych ward. I felt better than I ever had before. The depressing hole that resided in my chest was filled. Now that I felt ready for life again, I felt I was caged - almost imprisioned.

That feeling faded and I began to find I was enjoying my little vacation from the real world. I kept myself busy with activities I enjoyed and I talked to a lot of interesting people who (unknowingly) shared a lot of knowledge and wisdom.

I have been back home with my family for two days and feel infinitely better. My journey is not over. However, I feel that with a little mindfulness I will definitely make it!

I have gained a new perspective on life and I haven't felt like this since I was 8 years old. I do realize, though, that I need others in my life. Asking for help isn't as bad as I thought previously :). I'm still getting used to it though, haha.

I wish you well if you find yourself on a similar journey.