A common issue anyone with a mental illness must deal with is the complete lack of knowledge and understanding the average person has. The misconceptions regarding the various diagnoses and even refuting the existence of these diagnoses could be expounded on in an Encyclopedia Britannica size dissertation.
It is difficult and frustrating to not only have explain what causes my changes in mood, appetite, daily functioning and a variety of other daily activities, but then to have to defend the existence of the problem.
Watching movies and various shows today I feel alienated and demonized occasionally by the misrepresentation, distortion and outright falsehoods that portray mental illness. Sometimes I feel like I am viewed as a curiosity, or a freak that must live incognito among “normal” people.
When I reveal my bipolar diagnosis, I am commonly met with surprise. “But you’re so normal!” “You are always so calm and quiet.” Does this revelation fundamentally change my essence and my worth? Will every action I take be analyzed and examined to determine my prospects?
In many ways living with a mental illness is both blessing and curse. A pro of living with these chemical irregularities include increased creativity. Many great painters, musicians, politicians and actors have lived with a mental illness. I turned to reading and writing to cope with long periods of debilitating depression and to also relieve the manic jumble of thoughts and words that tumble out unintelligible to others. Reading has always provided solace and refuge. I can forget the deep emotional pain for a little while as I become immersed in the story. I become the character and the pain is less. Writing allows me to express the thoughts and ideas that demand to be released. It is the ultimate facilitator of my deepest thoughts. I can refine it and adequately express myself.
The most devastating problem I have from my illness is the burden it places on interpersonal relationships along with romance. I feel alone constantly and misunderstood. Depression makes me unwilling to see people and I isolate myself. Isolation deepens my depression. I lack self-confidence and am in constant fear of rejection. To protect myself I shut the world out and put up barriers. I cannot be hurt if I don’t let someone in close enough to hurt me. At one point when I would be outside and expect to see acquaintances I would go to extensive efforts to hide in plain sight. Reflective aviator sunglasses, dark and unassuming clothing as well as headphones made me unapproachable and provided the freedom to evade conversation.
Relationships are hard for anyone. Maintaining a relationship while alternating between mania and depression is even worse. On average couples with a bipolar partner are significantly more likely to divorce or separate. I find myself thinking quite frequently, “Why bother? I will just save everyone time and trouble by growing into an old spinster.” Giving oneself in a relationship is to make oneself vulnerable and can open the door to either acceptance or pain.
I love and care so deeply that it is devastating to be betrayed or suffer loss. I will spend years suppressing feelings for others to protect myself. To feel is to be vulnerable. Mood shifts exacerbate the pain and pleasure associated with this. I can find myself grieving the loss of a relationship for years and carry the pain and resentment long past the need for it.
The greatest question I find myself asking is, “Will I ever be okay?” I feel hopeless knowing I have many years of this ahead of me. The cycle I am in shades my taste for music, perceptions and behavior.
Maybe one day I will be okay, but for now I must get there.
