Reflections…
It was three years ago today that my world truly changed. Around the beginning of January of 2005, I had gone through some very unusual periods of moodiness; things that were way beyond anything I’d ever experienced, or at least never really noticed before if they had been there. I went from being the jovial, helpful call center employee people were used to falling apart so badly in the middle of a phone call that I had to go home, and then started going through extremely short-lived periods of crippling depression, followed by intense rage or massive giddiness and spending. I went through the company’s Employee Assistance Program, had gone to a counselor, and got referred to a psychiatrist somewhere in Marietta, and I set up an appointment.
The days leading up to that appointment are a blur, but I do remember getting in the car and going down to Marietta, which was a rather lengthy drive. I went in, got put through the usual array of probing questions and tests, and at the end of the whole ordeal, I received the diagnosis that would change my life: I was bipolar. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what to think. All I had heard were the stories from the news about bipolar people doing crazy things, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of panic at the thought of the daunting medication instructions being laid out in front of me. At the same time, it made sense, given the recent events, so knowing it wasn’t just simply losing my marbles was a relief. Either way, it did change my life in so many ways.
I struggled with several unsuccessful medication trials, each one bringing with it a new round of putrid side effects, usually knocking me flat on my ass was among them, yet the emotional turmoil failed to end. Things got so bad that I wound up hospitalized three times in that year, luckily in one of the better possible facilities near my apartment. I was in for eleven days surrounding Memorial Day, then eight days surrounding Independence Day and my 24th Birthday, and then my roughest one of all was being in for eleven days around Labor Day after I had gone through a rough period of self-mutilation.
Even since then, it’s not been an easy ride for me. There’ve been many a time I’ve wanted to give up and not have to deal with it anymore, and just die. I’ve just been very fortunate in the respect that I’ve managed to stumble upon some truly awesome friends over the course of the past couple years of my disability. I owe a lot to all of you, I really do. To the people I’ve known in real life, to the Loathers and AE players, THANK YOU. ALL OF YOU. You’ve all made a difference in some way, and I hope even if all I’ve done is made you laugh or smile once or twice, that I’ve made a difference in your lives as well. There’s just too many of you to name in one place, but know that I do appreciate your being my friend and putting up with my weirdness, even if I don’t say it enough.
I’ve survived three years with something many have succumbed to in less time. Part of it is through my being a stubborn old bat, but I owe at least part of it to those who have been by my side for part of, or all of, it. I wouldn’t be here today without you!
And so today, I raise a glass not only in honour of those who’ve lost the fight with the demons of the disorder, but also in honour of those who have been there for me, or for anyone else with bipolar disorder. Our friends are few and far between, and we need to thank you all somehow.
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