My Life with Bipolar Disorder

I am quite fortunate, and I realize this everyday. The severity of the symptoms I presented prior to my lithium treatment is usually not so easily alleviated. I have witnessed many similar cases that seem to end with a laundry list of drugs and the burden of continuing symptoms. I am lucky.

I presented symptoms consistent with bipolar disorder at a very young age. I was 13 when I first attempted suicide, and I was 14 for the second (and last) attempt. My manic episodes presented like something out of an abnormal psychology course textbook, except for the end when elation gave way to agitation and paranoia. My depressed episodes were the waking nightmares of my existence.

I saw more social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists that I would care to count or remember. General consensus: I had the symptoms, but I was too young to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder. So, when I was manic, I was essentially sedated. On one memorable occasion, I was administered haloperidol in an ER setting, but that might have been the delusions of grandeur that triggered that action. When I was seen for depression, I would receive an antidepressant that would inevitably fuel a drug-induced manic episode. I was 19 when a general practitioner and a clinical psychologist finally wised up to the situation. I was placed on lithium and an antidepressant. Over the next two years, my medication combination was altered, but the lithium was always there. Eventually I was placed on only the lithium. I have not had a full blown manic episode since September 2008 when I was first placed on the lithium, but I was hospitalized for a mixed episode in October 2009. It was at this point that my non-lithium medications were eliminated.

I am lucky. I take only one drug, and I've been stable for more than a year. I certainly have precautions that I must take, and there are rules for my life that I must follow. I take 600 mg of lithium twice a day, and I have to rearrange my life around this schedule at times. I have limited my consumption of stimulants and depressants. I was once a coffee fiend, but I keep my intake to (at most) 4 cups, which might still sound like a lot to some. Very firm rules regarding alcohol have been established to maintain the fine balance of my mood. Sleep. I function at 6 hours of sleep a night. Bless the poor soul who attempts to deprive me of sleep.

I am part of an online support group. I found myself participating less now that I am stable. I found support in the more tangible aspects of my life. As a psychology student, I find myself among peers in a similar position, and the professors are outstanding. Most people I encounter in my daily life know about my diagnosis, and that makes it easier. I am treated as my abilities and my level of responsibility dictate, and I received the same treatment as any of the other students performing at the same level. I go to classes, I do well on graded work, I assist with research, and I do no fall apart for the bits in between. I love what I do, and I can handle it now.

I am lucky. I take my meds, go to class, perform my responsibilities, hang out with my peers, and I love being alive. For the first time in my life, I am living, and no diagnosis would steal this from me.