Everything happened so quickly. The thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Depressing thoughts that would not seem to leave me alone. This was not me. I grew up in a good family, I’m in a band, I’ve got a fantastic girlfriend. Why am I suddenly depressed all day and having these suicidal tendancies? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my bag with a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a bible and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a good taste in my mouth about my friends, or family, or what was going to happen to me. Thoughts were foggy and dark. 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 a few days on the road, I woke up one morning extremely confused and scared by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone by the river. My mind felt like scrambled eggs and I decided it was time to connect with someone. I showed up at my cousin’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 spoke with him, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my dad was there to pick me up. After many troubled hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
Bipolar living is no joke. I’m on a ton of medicines that make me feel groggy and weird 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 friends are always concerned about how I’m feeling or whether or not I’m going to take off again. My parents aren’t quite sure how to deal with my manic depression either. The medicine is costing them money, and they keep searching for miracle cure. If I don’t take my medication, I begin to go back to some dark corners in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve started going to church every week because I want to ask God for help through this. I wish living with bipolar disorder 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 quite ridiculous!
I just have to get through it one day at a time. My family and I have dinner 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 nagging, telling me that everyone is judging me for being bipolar. I think they’re scared of me. They think I could crack at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to living with manic depression is a difficult thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Welsh tells me, “Life is a struggle only to teach.” 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.
