Bipolar princess: Life without meds

It may come as no surprise to people who know me well that, while I bit the bullet and sought help for Bipolar II Disorder again a couple of years ago, as of this past February, I’m no longer in treatment and no longer taking meds. And I’m doing surprisingly well…most of the time.

I do not like taking meds. I have a hard time remembering to take them. And the side effects suck. I am extremely averse to the weight gain caused by many antidepressants and mood stabilizers. (Honestly, I would rather be thin and angry than overweight and passive.) I am also averse to waking up in the middle of the night, hearing gunshots and someone pounding on doors, fearing for my life, only to realize that the noises were all in my head. I already have issues I’m trying to fix, I don’t need new ones!

Writing about being bipolar is extremely difficult. So many people just don’t understand what life with the disorder is like – the constant emotional rollercoaster of unjustifiable anger, thoughts of suicide, low self-esteem, unexplainable crying spells…but sometimes, on the other end of the spectrum, happiness, contentment, and even the occasional bout of excitability. And it’s not just “having a bad day.” It’s not just, “well I feel this way today, and I will feel this other way tomorrow,” this entire spectrum of emotions can run full-circle in the course of an HOUR. I can rapid-cycle like it’s an Olympic event.

I have heard, repeatedly, that “everyone is a little bipolar.” This is nothing but a trivialization of a much bigger problem than general moodiness. Most people don’t lash out at the people they love with a torrent of hatred, then shower them with kisses five minutes later. And while I’m not horrifically offended by the statement, it doesn’t make me feel as if any headway whatsoever is being made in society’s education of what mental illness truly is.

What I am horrifically offended by is when people say that “anyone who has a mental illness should be locked up.” As if there is no hope, no rehabilitation, no semblance of a successful, relatively normal, life for those who suffer. As if everyone who is diagnosed with any type of disorder can be lumped together, regardless of severity, regardless of symptoms, regardless of whether or not they can be successfully treated. Another common instruction is to “just get over it.” Both of these statements are completely ridiculous and inexcusable, not to mention just plain ignorant.

People fear mental illness because they don’t understand it; it is not a tangible illness like cancer or heart disease. An illness that affects the brain should not be treated or viewed any differently than an illness that attacks any other part of the body. Would you tell a cancer patient to “just get over” their sickness? Probably not. So why, then, are mentally ill patients held to a different standard?

But, getting back to the subject, I have been dealing with my illness without medication for a fairly long time. There are good days and there are bad days. I am learning to keep my emotions in check and, while I do well most of the time, there are some occasions in which my irrational thought patterns get the better of me and I erupt in a fiery rage. The thing about Bipolar II Disorder is that, at least in my experience, small problems or annoyances are magnified ten-fold, and there is a thread of paranoid that is constantly weaving itself in and out of my consciousness. On a bad day, I may imagine that my significant other is cheating on me just because he didn’t tell me he loved me that morning. It is its own kind of personal hell that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It is a constant, exhausting struggle, and at the end of every day I tell myself I made it, I can do this again tomorrow. Because taking things day by day is all I know how to do.

There is no good way for anyone “normal” to get what having Bipolar II Disorder is like. To many people, it’s an attitude problem, it’s being a “bitch,” it’s inability to use reason or see the reality of a situation. But I have come to terms with who I am, I am attempting to work through my issues without drugging myself (though I certainly do not advocate doing this without a doctor’s supervision), while keeping friends in reach that are capable of either identifying when I may need help or will be there for me if I should request it. My doctor is a phone call away in the event that I can’t work through something on my own, and I am strong enough now to push through without giving up.

I am bipolar…but I don’t allow my illness to define who I am, and I definitely won’t let it win.