What a month it has been. It has been good and bad at the same time, rapidly shifting from the one extreme to the other. I’ve not been myself, not the usual energetic and creative woman I believe I am, but in fact rather depressed.
In an attempt to help myself and Matt to deal with the situation, I tried to look up some helpful information on the internet. I came across a description of bipolar disorder, read it, stared at it, was speechless, felt it sink in and finally asked Matt. “Do you think I fit this portrayal?” “Well, actually, not as extreme, but yes, I think you do.”
What’s bipolar disorder? Well, it’s just another name for manic depressiveness. It basically implies that one’s moods swing so severely that it disrupts their way of functioning effectively on the work floor and in relationships. In a state of mania their energy level is extremely high and the person is pumped up with ideas, creativity and self-overestimation. In a depressed period the energy seems to be gone and everything seems pretty useless and stupid.
Some bipolar people jump of roofs because they either think they can fly or want to kill themselves. I am still alive, don’t assume I can float in the air and am afraid of heights anyway. But I find it the best way to explain to you how destructive and lethal both periods of mania and depression can be.
My personal mood swings aren’t half as bad as the example and could easily be seen as a unique and interesting asset of my personality. However, I find that the moods are slowly becoming more extreme, potentially harmful and less predictable or rationally explainable. So I thought it would be good to have a little chat with a professional.
To cut things short: the therapist I’ve spoken with a few times thinks I might well be right. As we speak she’s arranging a real check up with a real psychiatrist in a real hospital for me. So we can be a bit more sure about where we stand. She was quite serious and looked genuinely concerned.
Oh my. Time to consult my social safety net.
Parents react as always in their “Well, everybody is a little crazy”-fashion kind of way. Sometimes hard to digest, but I know it’s either their defence mechanism of being in denial or a reaction to try and comfort me. As for Matt and Maia, they are both excited and concerned and waiting for the big ‘if’ to become a ‘fact’ or ‘false’.
If, if, if! It’s all so f-ing ‘if’ right now. I should have written this after the check up of course, but I just couldn’t control myself. Although I now take the ‘risk’ for having to admit that in fact nothing is wrong, no bipolarity going on, I just couldn’t resist structuring my thoughts in a piece of text. I need to be prepared, in case I… If…
Luckily, if I am in fact diagnosed with a, in my opinion, mild form of bipolarity I will be in splendid company. Bipolar Stephen Fry, one of Maia’s favourite cuddle celebrities, is a great inspiration to me and feels a bit like a mentor. Or rather like an imaginary uncle. But say hello also to for instance Tim Burton, Jimi Hendrix, Sting, Jim Carrey, Larry Flynt, Dr. John and even Theodore Roosevelt and Beethoven. So no public shame is involved. It’s just a state of being, not a label that turns you into toxic mental waste. So if I…
If, if, if again… Nevertheless, it’s all drawing so miraculously close. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a month, a year, maybe even twelve years already. I’ve always known something just wasn’t right. And now it might actually become clear and I’m not sure anymore whether I want to. Because things will have to be changed and arranged once I get such a label.
And what if I’m not? What if they say: “Sorry, but you have no excuse to hide behind. You are just a bit unstable and lacking of sensible judgement. Otherwise you are completely sane.” Then I’m out of possible medical excuses. Then I guess I’m just… too weak for this world?
To bi or not to bi? I’ve tossed a coin in the air, longing for some clarity, but now I realise, both sides are equally petrifying. Either way, it will have a massive impact on my self-image. At this point I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad. Ironic, given the disease, don’t you think?
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Fingers crossed you get things eventually sorted out :)
Left by London-Lass on Monday, February 4th, 2008