My lifehas not always been in the light. Living until the age of 27 years old with undiagnosed rapid cycling bipolar disorder felt like living on a roller coaster which went from tunnel to above ground and back into the tunnel for long periods of time.
I was a masterful actress who acted out the scenes of my life with gusto but inside was just a person going through the motions of what I thought was expected of me. As such, I was a happy teenager blessed with a wonderful, loving family, who received straight A's at school, attended church and appeared to enjoy life. The real person was a teenager who struggled with life but thought that everyone else around me was just more adept at coping with life.
My teenage years were full of internal turmoil; I ran away from home twice, contemplated suicide on more than one occasion and remember laying my head down on my arms in American Government class to cry.
The outside girl was successful, beautiful, intelligent and was a leader in her school and friendships. I was a member of the National Honor Society, editor of the yearbook, in track and graduated with honors from high school.
The bipolar dragon
The bipolar dragon reared its ugly head when I attended college in southern California only I didn't know what was happening. I missed weeks of classes at a time, staying in bed most of the day only to get up and drag myself to dinner with my friends down at the dining commons.
One professor was so concerned about me that he called me to see how I was doing and I believe he even turned my name into the Dean of Students who also called to see if there was anything she could do to help. I went from sitting in the front row of class to lounging in the back row.
Enter alcohol.
After the first taste of a wine cooler on a beach one night with friends, I was hooked. I drank more than any of my friends the very first time indulging in this form of self-medication. I had a taste of what I felt was relief from the turmoil inside me and I wanted more. Often I'd talk a friend into going with me to the neighborhood bar and grill with the offer to buy them food if they'd drive me home. Long Island Iced Tea was my favorite and I drank my new friend down with style.
"Hi, my name's Mindy and I'm an alcholic."
My life was unraveling and spinning out of control and all I did was hang on during that period of time. Others around me knew that I had a problem with drinking before I did. One wonderful friend took me to the beach one day and told me her story about being an alcoholic and asked me if I'd like to go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting that night. Standing up in the large room of strangers and announcing to the world that I was an alcoholic was both one of the scariest things that I've ever done and one of the most courageous. My friendships with fellow recovering alcoholics and my sponsor kept me focused enough to graduate college.
Stress, corporate life and falling off the wagon
After finding a job that I liked I realized how much it stressed me out and asked for a couple of weeks off. During that time I became more contemplative, often spending hours upon hours in the local park writing in my journal. Poetry would flow out of my pen as well as my deepest, most private thoughts about what was happening to me. During this time, I threw aside my years of sobriety and would drink in my bed every night before I went to sleep.
I had a plan to kill myself
When my thought process went from thinking about suicide to actually planning out how to do it, a sane moment took over and I knew that I needed help and that I needed it immediately. Not knowing quite where to turn, I discussed it with my physician who suggested that I be an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital here in town. I knew that was the safest place for me because during my sane moments I realized that I didn't really want to die, I just wanted to stop feeling the way that I did.
My roller coaster life had begun at age 27
I was not surprised when I was diagnosed having rapid cycling bipolar disorder.Medication has helped me through the ups and downs but doesn't eliminate them. I struggled with the fact that I had to take medicine to be "normal." Who was I really? the person whose behaviors and head got them into trouble or the person when on medicine was quite fun to be around. During this initial time, I would go off my medication as a form of rebellion I think. Down the spiral to the bottom would I go.
"If this is most likely genetic, can I pass this on to my children one day?"
I remember asking the doctor who told me my diagnosis. I distinctively remember tears running down my cheeks as I realized this. Since college, I have met and married my best friend and gave birth to two wonderful daughters, ages 3 1/2 and 14 months.
On a scale of 1-10, 1 being contemplating suicide and 10 being you won the lottery, how would you rate yourself?
I hear this on each and every visit to my psychiatrist. I've learned that no matter how low the number, I must confess my true number despite a great urge to do otherwise. There have been numerous times over the past years that I have contemplated suicide but now know to reach out for help when the crazy thoughts come into my head.
