It is three weeks now since my psychiatrist, when pushed, broke it to me that she is treating me for Bipolar II. Although I felt like I kind of knew this already, it still shocked me. The mood stabiliser I had started the month before was increased to a therapeutic dose, and off I trundled, pretty bewildered by what had just happened.
At first I seemed to be in shock, I had heard the diagnosis, but had yet to absorb the information. Then I wanted to tell everyone, and had to rein myself in until I had had the opportunity to discuss it with my son’s social worker and ultimately discuss it with my son and my dad.
Next I made a very frank announcement on my Facebook timeline and began to tell friends in real life. Most people’s response seemed to go along the same lines; “Oh well that’s good because now you are on the right treatment you’ll be fine.”
This (I assume) well meaning statement really did little to reassure me. Especially following conversations with others who have Bipolar, who essentially told me to expect a period of perhaps up to two to three years of experimentation with various medicines and mood journals etc, before any kind of stability may be expected.
And then of course, there are those who struggle to maintain any true periods of stability at all, despite their best efforts and those of their support networks.
I wanted to believe my well meaning friends, but in contrast the majority of those with lived experience of Bipolar were painting me a rather different picture. And not only that, but a bleak prognosis of long-term care under the NHS to boot.
And then there were the statistics I discovered while doing my own research. One in ten people with Bipolar Disorder take their own lives. One in ten children with a Bipolar parent go on to develop the illness too. This diagnosis is not only casting a long shadow over my future, but potentially over my son’s as well. That alone makes me want to weep.
One friend in particular said how unhelpful she felt it was that I had been labeled Bipolar. I said what I found unhelpful was well meaning individuals who loved to quote the spectrum of mental health at me. Telling me that everyone has mental health (I do get that) and that we all just fall on different places along a spectrum, in my opinion, completely belittles my current experience and my pain. I plainly told her that until she had been unable to work, look after her own child, or even have the energy to get out of bed due to her position on the spectrum, I didn’t find her thoughts on the subject terribly valid. At least at the moment. I did share with her though, that having been labeled (or diagnosed as I prefer to call it) Bipolar, on the contrary, had not been unhelpful for me, but despite my concerns for the future had actually offered me a sense of relief. Suddenly my history fell into place. The times I had acted erratically and wildly out of character actually made sense for the first time. Not that I wish to just make excuses for my behaviour at those times, but I realise now I wasn’t a bad person, I was hypomanic. I was ill. I can trace severe mood shifts back at least until my teens, if not before. I felt a lot like a jigsaw, all my varied pieces coming together to make the complete picture of my life so far. It helped me identify with something. I wouldn’t have chosen to be Bipolar, but actually it is what I am, and I can kick against it in vain, or work with it to try and make the best of the rest of my life.
I admit I have struggled since the diagnosis. My mood has been getting lower since the increase in the mood-stabilising medication and my anxiety symptoms are the worst they have ever been. My CPN admits he doesn’t really know how to support me. I guess to be honest, his just listening, as I try to make sense of everything right now helps as much as anything. At least he is honest and doesn’t quote sickening platitudes at me.
I noticed another thing; I feel like everything has changed, and yet everything is the same. I’ll explain. As I mentioned I feel kind of like a complete jigsaw now. I’m exactly the same person I have always been, except now I make more sense (at least to myself). However my world and my future feels like it has been utterly turned upside down. I am terrified to make plans, for a short break away (something I would regularly do easily pre-diagnosis) or even a night out, as my moods have been rapid cycling so severely for the last six months or so and currently my very low mood and high anxiety have caused me to lose any shred of confidence I may have had left. I actually can’t trust how I will feel at any given time, even a short while ahead.
People have commented I have been quiet recently. I think that’s understandable given what I have been, and am still trying to get my head around. I will bounce back, I’m sure, it just may take a little longer yet as I get used to my new ‘normal’.