Everything happened so suddenly. The thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Suicidal thoughts that would not seem to leave me alone. This was not me. I grew up in a normal family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a wonderful girlfriend. Why am I suddenly down all day and having these suicidal thoughts? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my backpack with a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a bible and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a care in the world about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were rubbery and inconsistent. One minute I was thinking about jumping in front of a train, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.
After the next few days on the road, I woke up one morning extremely confused and scared by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone in the woods. My mind felt like scrambled eggs and I decided it was time to contact someone. I showed up at my music teacher’s house and explained to him that I had found God. His face told me that he thought I was joking. But the more I said, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my mom was there to pick me up. After many worried hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with manic depression.
Bipolar living is no joke. I’m on a ton of medicines that make me feel fuzzy and tired even though my thoughts have leveled out for the most part and I sort of feel like me again. I’m still in a band, but my band mates are always concerned about how I’m doing or whether or not I’m going to disappear again. My family members aren’t quite sure how to deal with living bipolar either. The medication is costing them money, and they keep searching for miracle cure. If I don’t take my medication, my mind starts to form crazy loops and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve begun going to church every week because I want to ask God for a cure. I wish living bipolar didn’t entail a bunch of pills that take me out of myself. But then again I’m not myself when I don’t take the medication either. It’s hard!
I just have to get through it one day at a time. My family and I have supper together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How class was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new drummer yet or any gigs coming up? But in the back of my mind there is a constant voice telling me that everyone is judging me for being manic depressive. I feel like they’re scared of me. They think I could break at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to bipolar living is a difficult thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Welsh tells me, “Living bipolar is Gods way of teaching me to overcome weakness.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to get over my bitter feelings of not fitting in. My music is getting better and my drive is getting stronger. With the help of my friends and family, I will turn this bipolar disorder around and use it to fuel me on the path to a successful life.
