Category Archives: World Bipolar Day

A World Bipolar Day Rant

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Bipolar and unhappy about it

sign saying rant

Bipolar is quite a large part of my life, of that there is no doubt. Trying to find the sweet spot of correct medication is challenging with some meds making me incredibly tired all day. I take an antidepressant which works well, and also Lithium works very well for the mania. Although I still have the occasional manic period and sleeplessness so need an antipsychotic, and it is this that is wiping me out. This in itself is making me feel very low and just for this reason alone I wouldn’t wish any type of bipolar on anybody.

My GP has been trying to prescribe me medications with minimal intervention from my psychiatric consultant. This is a bit of a joke as I have never seen this consultant but apparently she has been allocated to me. She is reported to by my GP and CPN (community psychiatric nurse) regularly but very rarely replies to them unless it is for a change of medication.

My own fault?

I should say that I am one of those people who doesn’t really complain too much, as I feel if you complain too much there is a chance you can be easily overlooked as being a pain in the neck. However, I have begun to show how annoyed and upset I am with varying degrees of success. All of this though is another story.
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You Think This is My Face

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I’m not wearing this mask because I live with bipolar disorder. I wear it because you fear my real one.

hockeymask

Go to any costume store and you will see plenty of masks purporting to depict psychotics. If you are to believe the manufacturers, we are deformed and rabid creatures that are part animal, part alien, and part degenerate. People buy these with a mind to having a good drunken laugh at my expense and that of everyone who shares my affliction or has another related condition such as schizophrenia, borderline disorder and even depression!

Because of this, we wear another kind of facial covering — invisibility. Coupled with this is Silence. We do not talk about our illness much with outsiders — which can include our members of our own family — it is much too dangerous. You deny us jobs, decent housing, and even friendship because you fear an imaginary ax murderer lurking inside our skins.

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Stigma

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Happy World Bipolar Day!

If someone asked me one word that pops into my head when asked the question “What does bipolar mean in your life?”, stigma would be the first thing that pops into my head.  “An association of disgrace or public disapproval with something, such as an action or condition”, according to Google.  It’s stigma that keeps me secretive.  Stigma that requires me to keep what I consider to be such a large part of my life a secret to all except those really close to me I know I can trust to keep it to themselves, and to not judge me for it, to see me in a different fashion.

Even to those I do tell, the response seems to be the same, “Wow, I never wouldn’t guessed that about you.”  Partly because I’m medicated to function.  Partly because I’m required to act as if it doesn’t exist, even on days when I’m all over the map (I’ve grown increasingly more skilled at masking it).  But I think largely more than anything else, they just don’t know what it MEANS to be bipolar.  They know the stigma, they know that bipolar people are crazy, that they’re moody.  They don’t truly know what that entails in detail, how it effects your life, etc.

I will openly admit that I suffer from GAD, OCD, because those are “socially accepted” mental illnesses.  I can even joke about them.  There are some I know who suffer from anxiety and can relate, but none with bipolar, aside from my support group.  I wish for a day to come where the stigma could be lifted, that people would understand that with the proper treatment, someone with bipolar is no different than anyone else (for the most part, we all have our challenges), just like someone with OCD untreated can go completely off the reservoir.

Bipolar in my life means medication.  It means secrecy.  It means never truly being able to be myself, to not fully fit in with my colleges, with my friends.  I wish a day would come where stigma was not an issue, and people would become more educated, that the illness would gain more limelight.  Perhaps it will happen in my generation, but I don’t see it happening any time soon.

Self-Compassion

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I wonder if people who read these blogs know the difference between being an ally and simply supporting. I can support many causes, but to be a true ally is to feel the pain of someone else as your own and still feel compassion.

Compassion is when you not only tolerate, but also accept someone for who they are, in their entirety. And it takes a secure and confident person to be compassionate because you have to admit to yourself that you are human and are prone to err, and so are others.

I strongly believe that if we spent more time being compassionate, without pity, rather than just tolerant, we would be a less violent society. And I mean violent in all its aspects: verbally violent, physically violent, emotionally violent, etc.

You may disagree with me, and that’s okay, but there is no need to be verbally aggressive and accuse me of being who knows what. Rather, we should strive as human beings to really truly see the good and move towards compassion. Compassion for others, but more importantly for ourselves.

How many times haven’t I counseled someone on the importance of self-care, yet do not take my own advice and end up almost burned out? That’s not self-compassion.

We cannot forget ourselves and forget to be compassionate towards ourselves as well. And what does self-compassion even mean? It means whatever you need to be right with yourself and with the world. To me, it means taking breaks once in a while to write, read, and be alone so that I can be a better person, mother, wife, daughter, employee, etc.

What does self-compassion look for you???