I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. With the benefit of hindsight, I saw this coming. I will preface this with saying that I have not researched the disorder, which is entirely intentional. I didn't want anything to shape my behavior. I didn't want to plant the seed and then either convince myself I did or didn't have the disorder. Instead, I have decided to share what I am experiencing as I experience it. No filters. No bullshit. Nothing but objective data and shared experiences.
At first, I noticed wild mood swings from extreme highs to debilitating lows. I initially thought I was just working through a bout of depression. Then, I starting keeping an audio journal and really analyzing my past behavior. I also starting talking to people about what it's like to be around me and talk to me. They noted very distinct behavior patterns, changes in my body language, changes in my level of engagement, and varying degrees of predictability. I noticed some of these changes when I started going back through my internal catalogue of clear mood swings (or at least what I perceived as mood swings).
The highs used to be incredible. They were something I looked forward to. I thought I was operating on a higher level during the highs. I felt like I was processing more information when in fact, I was stuck in an infinite loop. I would keep cycling through the same ideas and thoughts without reaching a conclusion. I could only settle on a certain thought or idea for a few minutes if I was lucky. Up until about six months ago, I could see the highs coming. I could predict them with about 95% accuracy within a day or two. I could feel a shift in my thinking. I would notice that I couldn't keep or even make eye contact with people (it would distract me from thinking about everything in my head). I could feel that I wanted to do 100 things at once. I would be mentally exhausted by the end of the day but I couldn't sleep more than a couple hours a night. My brain was stuck in that infinite loop until my body just decided it had enough.
I recall having these highs over the last 20 years since a severe head injury. They increased over time in frequency, duration, and intensity. They reached a point at the end of April this year that I could no longer predict when they would happen and how long they would last. That didn't convince me it was time to get help. I thought I could still manage them whenever they came. In my mind, they weren't a bad thing. I figured I had been through worse and I didn't need help. More importantly (at least in my head), I didn't want to be labeled or have to go on medication for the rest of my life. I didn't want to become a pill popping robot or mindless zombie.
The lows were usually brief and pretty manageable because they didn't typically lead to me staying in bed with my head buried under the blankets. That changed in May after a high. The shift to low was immediate. I usually had a couple days to come down and prepare for the low that I knew was coming. There was no such luck in May. I didn't want to be seen or heard. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to interact with anyone. All I wanted to do was survive the day. I kept thinking that tomorrow will be better. I'll wake up and it will all be better. Then, it wasn't. The days kept stringing together. They kept getting longer and more difficult to navigate. Surviving was the only thing I could think about. I knew another high was coming eventually. I always got by knowing that another high was around the corner. I lived for those highs. I needed them like I once needed alcohol. I needed them like it was a drug I couldn't live without. Three days become five. Five became eight. Eight became ten. I was spiraling and I couldn't see the bottom. Was I at the bottom? Did this go deeper? Would I get out? Could I get out? If so, how and when? The only thought was to survive the day until the next high came.
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