I’m sick, very sick. I haven’t been this sick in a while. When I hit this low I make sure to constantly look at pictures of my family to remind myself of why I fight through this.
My wife recently lost her grandmother. I have tried to push my illness deep down so I can be strong for her. The deeper I try to push my illness down the more it pushes back. I feel guilty for not being there for her the way I should and want to be.
I have always and still do try to cover up when I am feeling out of sorts.
I put on my mask and get through the day, but what people do not realize is when I am home I let it all out. My friends and family are who I rely on to get through the rough times, but at the same time I do not want to bother them with my bipolar disorder. I always feel like they will get sick of me.
My favorite song of all time is called The Dance by Garth Brooks it has a lot of meaning to me.
First, it reminds me of a special friend of mine, Brian, but we called him Rini. He and I would dance at the various dances we had at school. We were very close and shared a lot of memories –school, parties etc.
I was diagnosed in April with Bipolar II. I am 55 years old. Fifty five.
It was a shock, but then again, it explained all my struggles in life: jobs, relationships, moods, parenting, depression, rage. Thanks to a wonderful psychiatrist, I am on a very successful combination of medications. More importantly, I have incorporated yoga into my life. It is just as important as the meds.
You suffer in silence out of constant fear of being persecuted. You bury your pain into the deepest obscure corners of your heart for fear of being labeled as crazy or insane. You try to fake it, to be strong, to be normal, all the while carrying this misunderstood weight on your chest.
Living with Bipolar Disorder can feel like driving a car and suddenly the steering wheel falls off. You can feel in control for days, weeks, or months at a time. Then suddenly you loose your steering and fall into the cavernous hole of depression.