Those of you who know me from my Bipolar-Lives.com website know that my bipolar disorder destroyed my first marriage. Here is a more positive story. This scholarship entry shows a more upbeat view, where diagnois and intervention happen in time:
"Bipolar disorder came into our lives quite unexpectedly. Yes, we knew mental illness was hereditary in my wife’s family and that Andrea had been unofficially diagnosed with hypomania in college. No one ever told us to be on the lookout, we had no reason to even consider the possibility. However, when she was finally correctly diagnosed over a year after her initial manic episode, it all seemed to make sense for the first time.
My wife and I have lived with bipolar disorder for over two years now. While she was the one diagnosed, we have travelled this oft bumpy road together. This is a short account of our journey thus far with bipolar disorder.
Nearly two and a half years ago as we were approaching the end of our term of service in Peace Corps Thailand, Andrea began experiencing mental and emotional shifts in her mood and affect. Andrea sought medical advice from our medical director and went to a psychiatrist in Bangkok where she was misdiagnosed with depression. Surely she was struggling with depression but that was only half the story as we were to later find out. Andrea began taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. As it turns out, these medications can actually exacerbate mania.
Andrea had become obsessive and delusional in her thinking. She was unable to function outside the house. She wasn’t sleeping and would obsess about the most insignificant things. When we left Thailand at the end of our service, Andrea was to travel from Thailand to Kansas, Kansas to Ethiopia, Ethiopia to Indiana, Indiana to Kansas and finally Kansas to Utah! As if it weren’t enough starting our lives afresh after Peace Corps, Andrea went to Ethiopia with her sister to help adopt a baby boy.
I didn’t hear much from them while they were in Africa. I drove to meet them at the airport in South Bend, Indiana. When they arrived, Andrea looked vacant, gone. There was no life in her eyes, she hardly seemed happy to see me. I chocked it up to stress: she had been through a hell of a lot. The two of us drove back together to her sister’s house and that’s when I realized how far gone was Andrea. She was sure that I had slept with all of her friends while she was away. She was completely paranoid. I didn’t know what to make of it other than it was a continuation of her delusional thinking from Thailand.
After a couple nights of solid rest at her sister’s, Andrea slowly came back to herself. Her sister recounted Andrea’s strange behavior in Ethiopia. I can’t remember too many of the details other than that what I heard was disturbing to say the least. Andrea and I travelled back from Indiana to Kansas where we readied to move to Utah. I was to enter training at a wilderness therapy program to be a field instructor. Andrea had already secured a job at a local Head Start. Packing what few possessions we could fit into our car we headed to another foreign land to start our lives anew.
I entered training not long after arriving which required spending time away from her in the backcountry. We had difficulty arranging an apartment immediately and Andrea was forced to live in a motel. The first night I was able to come back and see her after training, Andrea appeared ready to crack. Her state was so fragile: a light breeze could’ve blown her to pieces.
It was like she was waiting to have a place to finally let it all out. That weekend we moved into our apartment and before we even had the car unpacked, Andrea started acting very strangely. What was more disturbing was how distant she became from me emotionally. This was someone I had known and loved for years now. She no longer acted like the same person I married.
We moved into our apartment on a Friday and by Sunday Andrea was in the hospital. Over the course of the weekend her condition deteriorated to the point where I feared for both of our safety. Andrea’s behavior had become erratic, even psychotic. She would get impulses to go do the most random things. I literally had to carry her to the car to drive her to the hospital. She was so gone I half expected her to jump out of the moving car on the way!
The doctor and social worker were amazed at the intensity of Andrea’s elevation and mania. I watched her as she was taken in the back of an ambulance to be admitted to the hospital’s behavioral health clinic. I went home that night to an apartment in a strange town, hundreds of miles from family and friends. I felt a strange sense of relief mixed with devastation and despair. My wife, partner and best friend was in the hospital by herself in this strange new town.
Andrea spent six days and her 28th birthday in the hospital. The doctor sat us down before discharging her and gave Andrea her accurate diagnoses of bipolar disorder. This was only the beginning of our journey. Since then we have worked together in couple’s counseling doing a lot of psycho education around bipolar disorder. Andrea has found a medication she is happy to take and has been helpful in stabilizing her moods. We keep some stronger medication around for when the mania creeps back as it inevitably does. Through the support of skilled therapists, appropriate medication, a stable life and a loving partner, Andrea is thriving once again."
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Living positively with bipolar disorder
HERE IS ANOTHER ENTRY THE JUDGES LOVED:
My bipolar disorder has allowed me to experience life in richer ways. When I became sick in 1995 at the age of 22, I wouldn’t have thought that my life would have turned out this way. I was interested in many different things. My main passion was writing. My Asian family and the suburban community basically thought that to be a success story, you had to go to the “right” school or have a career as a doctor, lawyer, or engineer. When I became sick with bipolar disorder, I grew to realize that my physical health and mental health were the most important things to me. Every setback caused me to feel like a huge failure. After many years of struggle with the illness, I just wanted to be well. I prayed to God that if I could only be well, I would be happy and satisfied with my life. The “American Dream” started to recede in my brain. I started to appreciate who I was instead of trying to fit the mold of what everyone else and society expected of me. And I actively sought to appreciate the gifts that were given to me: humor, empathy for others, good friends, and a strong appreciation for life.
Before I became ill, I was just another Asian suburban kid who dreamed to become a doctor. In the midst of my junior year in college, my symptoms became noticeable. At first, it didn’t occur to me that anything was wrong. But, gradually over time, I started to feel that something was just not right. I had a severe depression in my junior year that I thought was the result of my heavy course load. My mind felt fuzzy sometimes, and I had a difficult time with concentration. Finally, I decided to take a semester off. My mother was not supportive at all. She pressured me to return to school even though I wasn’t feeling well. Under so much pressure from my family, I returned to school at a branch campus.
At school, I met my boyfriend. After three months of dating, he noticed that I was developing some weird symptoms. I started to have delusions. One of them was that my chemistry professor was out to poison me and by eating chalk, I could stop the poison from working. I was paranoid, obviously. And I had severe mood swings. My boyfriend tried to get my mother to help me. But, she would not. Instead, she threw me out of the house, multiple times. I was devastated by her behavior.
My boyfriend was very supportive of me. He moved me into his grandfather’s house and encouraged me to work. Unfortunately, by then, my symptoms were unmanageable. I sometimes took a long time to just complete one task. I could not hold down a job for more than a few months. After several years, my boyfriend became depressed. He sought counseling and this is when my situation improved. My boyfriend’s counselor thought that I had a mental illness. She urged my boyfriend to get me professional help. My boyfriend immediately took her advice. He took me to see a psychiatrist and psychologist and they confirmed that I had bipolar disorder.
The psychiatrist said that I could attend Partial-Care, a daycare program for adults with mental illness. In the morning, I would get picked up to go to the center. In the afternoon, someone would drop me off. In my mind, I was convinced that I was going to be institutionalized for the rest of my life. There was no hope, I thought. I started to think that I should take my own life. My boyfriend told me not to give up hope. He stressed that taking my own life was not an option. He is a Christian and told me that if I did that, I would end up in hell. He urged me to go on and said that no matter how hard and awful it got, I could not take my own life. I listened to him. He said that there were excellent medications and in a few years, I would be okay. My psychiatrist said that my chance of recovery was excellent. With so much support, how could I say “no”? So, I went to outpatient daycare.
My boyfriend turned out to be right. Eventually, I recovered. Today, I have Supportive Housing and have my own apartment. I work part-time as a substitute teacher and teacher’s aide. I have pursued my passion in writing and now write resumes, brochures and pamphlets for individuals, businesses, and organizations. I speak for NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness) about my recovery in a program called “In Our Own Voice”. I go out to various audiences and tell my story. I let them know that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of and completely recoverable. Several of my articles have been published in local newspapers, The Courier-Post and Philadelphia Inquirer.
My story has a happy ending. My boyfriend and I are still together to this day. Sometimes, my illness does flare up. I have learned that taking care of myself physically also helps my mental health. I try to eat healthy, exercise, sleep well, and keep my stress levels low. I have many friends that I can count on. My friends and I talk to each other about the things that matter to us the most. They have been one of my greatest sources of support.
So, I keep chugging along. My motto for life has been to “keep learning.” So, while I wasn’t able to make it as a doctor, I think I lead a meaningful life. It has been a long journey for me. This excerpt from “The Road Not Taken” (Robert Frost) relates some of my experience:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
For me, the unintended road has made me a different person than when I started off at college. Life has dealt me its cards. I think I’ve played them well. I know that I’m a lucky person. I’ve had my share of troubles, but I’ve been bountifully blessed.
My bipolar disorder has allowed me to experience life in richer ways. When I became sick in 1995 at the age of 22, I wouldn’t have thought that my life would have turned out this way. I was interested in many different things. My main passion was writing. My Asian family and the suburban community basically thought that to be a success story, you had to go to the “right” school or have a career as a doctor, lawyer, or engineer. When I became sick with bipolar disorder, I grew to realize that my physical health and mental health were the most important things to me. Every setback caused me to feel like a huge failure. After many years of struggle with the illness, I just wanted to be well. I prayed to God that if I could only be well, I would be happy and satisfied with my life. The “American Dream” started to recede in my brain. I started to appreciate who I was instead of trying to fit the mold of what everyone else and society expected of me. And I actively sought to appreciate the gifts that were given to me: humor, empathy for others, good friends, and a strong appreciation for life.
Before I became ill, I was just another Asian suburban kid who dreamed to become a doctor. In the midst of my junior year in college, my symptoms became noticeable. At first, it didn’t occur to me that anything was wrong. But, gradually over time, I started to feel that something was just not right. I had a severe depression in my junior year that I thought was the result of my heavy course load. My mind felt fuzzy sometimes, and I had a difficult time with concentration. Finally, I decided to take a semester off. My mother was not supportive at all. She pressured me to return to school even though I wasn’t feeling well. Under so much pressure from my family, I returned to school at a branch campus.
At school, I met my boyfriend. After three months of dating, he noticed that I was developing some weird symptoms. I started to have delusions. One of them was that my chemistry professor was out to poison me and by eating chalk, I could stop the poison from working. I was paranoid, obviously. And I had severe mood swings. My boyfriend tried to get my mother to help me. But, she would not. Instead, she threw me out of the house, multiple times. I was devastated by her behavior.
My boyfriend was very supportive of me. He moved me into his grandfather’s house and encouraged me to work. Unfortunately, by then, my symptoms were unmanageable. I sometimes took a long time to just complete one task. I could not hold down a job for more than a few months. After several years, my boyfriend became depressed. He sought counseling and this is when my situation improved. My boyfriend’s counselor thought that I had a mental illness. She urged my boyfriend to get me professional help. My boyfriend immediately took her advice. He took me to see a psychiatrist and psychologist and they confirmed that I had bipolar disorder.
The psychiatrist said that I could attend Partial-Care, a daycare program for adults with mental illness. In the morning, I would get picked up to go to the center. In the afternoon, someone would drop me off. In my mind, I was convinced that I was going to be institutionalized for the rest of my life. There was no hope, I thought. I started to think that I should take my own life. My boyfriend told me not to give up hope. He stressed that taking my own life was not an option. He is a Christian and told me that if I did that, I would end up in hell. He urged me to go on and said that no matter how hard and awful it got, I could not take my own life. I listened to him. He said that there were excellent medications and in a few years, I would be okay. My psychiatrist said that my chance of recovery was excellent. With so much support, how could I say “no”? So, I went to outpatient daycare.
My boyfriend turned out to be right. Eventually, I recovered. Today, I have Supportive Housing and have my own apartment. I work part-time as a substitute teacher and teacher’s aide. I have pursued my passion in writing and now write resumes, brochures and pamphlets for individuals, businesses, and organizations. I speak for NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness) about my recovery in a program called “In Our Own Voice”. I go out to various audiences and tell my story. I let them know that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of and completely recoverable. Several of my articles have been published in local newspapers, The Courier-Post and Philadelphia Inquirer.
My story has a happy ending. My boyfriend and I are still together to this day. Sometimes, my illness does flare up. I have learned that taking care of myself physically also helps my mental health. I try to eat healthy, exercise, sleep well, and keep my stress levels low. I have many friends that I can count on. My friends and I talk to each other about the things that matter to us the most. They have been one of my greatest sources of support.
So, I keep chugging along. My motto for life has been to “keep learning.” So, while I wasn’t able to make it as a doctor, I think I lead a meaningful life. It has been a long journey for me. This excerpt from “The Road Not Taken” (Robert Frost) relates some of my experience:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
For me, the unintended road has made me a different person than when I started off at college. Life has dealt me its cards. I think I’ve played them well. I know that I’m a lucky person. I’ve had my share of troubles, but I’ve been bountifully blessed.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Bipolar Treatments
We do talk about Bipolar Treatments on the Bipolar Lives website, but there is a lot more detail that folks need to know.
In particular we suggest looking at the treatments info from the Black Dog Institute - one of our favorite websites.
The judging panel liked the way the winning entry discussed a little understood bipolar treatment (ECT) and confronted the dilemma of what to do when meds are insufficient or ineffective. We will continue the "treatments theme" with the next few 2009 scholarship entries we publish.
In particular we suggest looking at the treatments info from the Black Dog Institute - one of our favorite websites.
The judging panel liked the way the winning entry discussed a little understood bipolar treatment (ECT) and confronted the dilemma of what to do when meds are insufficient or ineffective. We will continue the "treatments theme" with the next few 2009 scholarship entries we publish.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Read the winning entry . . .
I chose the topic of Bipolar Treatments because of the way my own treatments have changed my life. My views on life and the world have been radically changed forever by this form of treatment. I have had a dozen electroconvulsive therapy treatments. These treatments are used as a last resort, and I think it’s important to explain why this intensive therapy was used on such a young woman.
My life started to fall apart during my senior year of high school. My descent into manias and subsequent depression was frightening. For many years, my life was only pain. I had to live minute by minute to resist suicide. My goals of being in AmeriCorps NCCC, going to college and earning a Bachelor’s degree in Social Work all seemed like childish fantasies. Words like lazy, stupid, weak and worthless continually dominated my thoughts.
I spent two years hiding in my mother’s basement, save for going to therapy twice a week while taking a litany of medication. The side effects were horrendous. It seemed that whatever negative consequence was possible, I was bound to suffer it. It was then that I became dependant on the popular medication Xanex. It was the only thing in life that gave me any comfort. I remember the first time I tried it, and how I felt strong enough to walk upstairs and out the front door for the first time in weeks.
I gained fifty pounds in three months while taking another medication called Seroquel. Lithium was next, and it was so toxic to me that I described the pain as, “a cat-o-nine tails lashing in my stomach.” I was given more medication to assuage my pain, but it did nothing. I tried everything – anti-depressants, anti-convulsants, and so many others cocktails of drugs that I can’t even name them all. ECTs were my last and final hope for a future.
I don’t know how to express how utterly terrifying the procedures were. It took every ounce of my strength and courage to go through it time and time again. I had so many questions. Will I suffer retrograde amnesia? Will my mind ever be what it was? For a long time I was a living zombie, unable even to form simple sentences without struggle. I was always confused and frustrated because my brain didn’t function like it once did. I feared that I had lost the person that I was. I could no longer remember anything, from my childhood all the way up to the ECTs. I asked my friends and families to tell me stories because I had to re-learn who I was. They told me about things I had done and I listened as if I had never heard them before.
My saving grace was my journals. It was nice to hear about my senior prom from my date, but reading my experience in my own words helped me begin to remember. I began writing my first journal entries in the second grade, and now they are my only link to my past. They are my most precious possessions. If not for them, I would have lost my entire life. I struggled remembering the names of family members or what year I graduated from high school. I couldn’t navigate through Menasha, the town I had lived in for the majority of my life. I constantly called my mother and cried when I got lost only a few miles from home. She helped me find my way.
When I was finished with the bulk of my ECTs, I was determined to enroll in school immediately, though I was still in miserable conditional. My mother would drive me to school because I was too afraid to drive myself. I could barely retain any knowledge because of my memory problems, so I studied harder than any of my peers. That first semester, I had to withdraw from two of my four classes, but with each subsequent semester my mind slowly recovered.
I’m a sophomore now and have a cumulative 3.0 GPA. I’m a senator in the Student Association and the Secretary of the Circle K club. This year I was awarded the Student Association scholarship because of my dedication to the campus, my positive attitude, and my success despite all of the obstacles that could have broken me.
Last semester, my grades were phenomenal. After I get my Associates Degree at UW-Fox Valley I am transferring to one of the best schools in the state, UW- Madison. I can’t believe how much I have changed. During my time in the basement, I would never in my wildest dreams have pictured myself where I am today. The words that used to haunt me; lazy, stupid, worthless are now replaced with hopeful sentiments. When I call my family I can tell them, “Mom, I got an A+ on my Lit exam!” “Grandma, I got a scholarship!” “Dad, I’m going to Madison” and finally feel like the person that I never thought I could be.
This year, I cried happy tears for the first time in my life. All the pain and suffering that I have endured has truly made me appreciate every little step forward so much more. My stubborn optimism had gotten me where I am today, and there is no end in sight.
My life started to fall apart during my senior year of high school. My descent into manias and subsequent depression was frightening. For many years, my life was only pain. I had to live minute by minute to resist suicide. My goals of being in AmeriCorps NCCC, going to college and earning a Bachelor’s degree in Social Work all seemed like childish fantasies. Words like lazy, stupid, weak and worthless continually dominated my thoughts.
I spent two years hiding in my mother’s basement, save for going to therapy twice a week while taking a litany of medication. The side effects were horrendous. It seemed that whatever negative consequence was possible, I was bound to suffer it. It was then that I became dependant on the popular medication Xanex. It was the only thing in life that gave me any comfort. I remember the first time I tried it, and how I felt strong enough to walk upstairs and out the front door for the first time in weeks.
I gained fifty pounds in three months while taking another medication called Seroquel. Lithium was next, and it was so toxic to me that I described the pain as, “a cat-o-nine tails lashing in my stomach.” I was given more medication to assuage my pain, but it did nothing. I tried everything – anti-depressants, anti-convulsants, and so many others cocktails of drugs that I can’t even name them all. ECTs were my last and final hope for a future.
I don’t know how to express how utterly terrifying the procedures were. It took every ounce of my strength and courage to go through it time and time again. I had so many questions. Will I suffer retrograde amnesia? Will my mind ever be what it was? For a long time I was a living zombie, unable even to form simple sentences without struggle. I was always confused and frustrated because my brain didn’t function like it once did. I feared that I had lost the person that I was. I could no longer remember anything, from my childhood all the way up to the ECTs. I asked my friends and families to tell me stories because I had to re-learn who I was. They told me about things I had done and I listened as if I had never heard them before.
My saving grace was my journals. It was nice to hear about my senior prom from my date, but reading my experience in my own words helped me begin to remember. I began writing my first journal entries in the second grade, and now they are my only link to my past. They are my most precious possessions. If not for them, I would have lost my entire life. I struggled remembering the names of family members or what year I graduated from high school. I couldn’t navigate through Menasha, the town I had lived in for the majority of my life. I constantly called my mother and cried when I got lost only a few miles from home. She helped me find my way.
When I was finished with the bulk of my ECTs, I was determined to enroll in school immediately, though I was still in miserable conditional. My mother would drive me to school because I was too afraid to drive myself. I could barely retain any knowledge because of my memory problems, so I studied harder than any of my peers. That first semester, I had to withdraw from two of my four classes, but with each subsequent semester my mind slowly recovered.
I’m a sophomore now and have a cumulative 3.0 GPA. I’m a senator in the Student Association and the Secretary of the Circle K club. This year I was awarded the Student Association scholarship because of my dedication to the campus, my positive attitude, and my success despite all of the obstacles that could have broken me.
Last semester, my grades were phenomenal. After I get my Associates Degree at UW-Fox Valley I am transferring to one of the best schools in the state, UW- Madison. I can’t believe how much I have changed. During my time in the basement, I would never in my wildest dreams have pictured myself where I am today. The words that used to haunt me; lazy, stupid, worthless are now replaced with hopeful sentiments. When I call my family I can tell them, “Mom, I got an A+ on my Lit exam!” “Grandma, I got a scholarship!” “Dad, I’m going to Madison” and finally feel like the person that I never thought I could be.
This year, I cried happy tears for the first time in my life. All the pain and suffering that I have endured has truly made me appreciate every little step forward so much more. My stubborn optimism had gotten me where I am today, and there is no end in sight.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Announcing the 2009 Winner!
The inaugural Bipolar Lives Scholarship is going to NH, a social work student in Wisconsin, who wrote a gripping account of turning to ECT for treatment when medication failed.
This was a wonderful entry describing personal experiences of electroshock therapy from a young person whose mania and depression did not respond satisfactorily to medications. The essay combines personal experience, facts about bipolar treatments, and a positive outlook in a manner that the whole judging panel found fresh and compelling. The winner was mailed their check today and we are publishing the winning entry, minus any identifying information. A problem with some of the very few scholarships available for consumers of mental health services is lack of privacy, and the associated stigma. We decided that we would not publish full names or require applicants to supply a lot of personal medical details. We try to minimize publicity for the recipient, while still honoring their achievement.
The winner has found the experience affirming and encouraging:
"This scholarship is much more than financial support. Like many people with bipolar disorder, I know how what it means to feel unwanted and worthless. Being the recipient of the Bipolar Lives Scholarship makes me feel validated.It makes me want to believe in myself and believe that anyone with bipolar can rise above the pain and accomplish the things that may seem impossible. The most important lesson I learned when I heard that I got this scholarship is that I am not alone. We, mental health service consumers, are not alone in our suffering, and there are people out there who want to help. You just need to ask."
The next Bipolar Lives Scholarship round is already underway, with two major changes:
1. The prize money has been increased from $599 to $750, and
2. Submissions must be in the form of a Squidoo Lens or an original Internet article.
Why the change?
There were many excellent submissions for the 2009 prize, but it was difficult to share these fascinating, informative, and moving insights into bipolar disorder with a wide audience, as most of them were in essay form. We have set up this blog in order to publish them, but most entries are not really suited to the blog format.
Using Squidoo Lenses and online articles will ensure all entries get shared on the Internet immediately, and will allow for more creative and flexible forms of expression.
This was a wonderful entry describing personal experiences of electroshock therapy from a young person whose mania and depression did not respond satisfactorily to medications. The essay combines personal experience, facts about bipolar treatments, and a positive outlook in a manner that the whole judging panel found fresh and compelling. The winner was mailed their check today and we are publishing the winning entry, minus any identifying information. A problem with some of the very few scholarships available for consumers of mental health services is lack of privacy, and the associated stigma. We decided that we would not publish full names or require applicants to supply a lot of personal medical details. We try to minimize publicity for the recipient, while still honoring their achievement.
The winner has found the experience affirming and encouraging:
"This scholarship is much more than financial support. Like many people with bipolar disorder, I know how what it means to feel unwanted and worthless. Being the recipient of the Bipolar Lives Scholarship makes me feel validated.It makes me want to believe in myself and believe that anyone with bipolar can rise above the pain and accomplish the things that may seem impossible. The most important lesson I learned when I heard that I got this scholarship is that I am not alone. We, mental health service consumers, are not alone in our suffering, and there are people out there who want to help. You just need to ask."
The next Bipolar Lives Scholarship round is already underway, with two major changes:
1. The prize money has been increased from $599 to $750, and
2. Submissions must be in the form of a Squidoo Lens or an original Internet article.
Why the change?
There were many excellent submissions for the 2009 prize, but it was difficult to share these fascinating, informative, and moving insights into bipolar disorder with a wide audience, as most of them were in essay form. We have set up this blog in order to publish them, but most entries are not really suited to the blog format.
Using Squidoo Lenses and online articles will ensure all entries get shared on the Internet immediately, and will allow for more creative and flexible forms of expression.
Counting down . . . .
It is after 7 pm on June 30 so we will be announcing the winner in a few hours time. There were so many excellent entries - I cannot wait until we grow to the point where we can afford to give multiple awards. Choosing just one has been very hard, and I so appreciate the dedication and efforts of the judging panel.
Now seems like a good time to remind folks that there some other scholarships out there for consumers of mental health services. For example, Eli Lily have been offering one for over 10 years. The goal of the Lilly Reintegration Scholarship is to help people with conditions such as schizophrenia and bipolar get the educational and vocational skills necessary to reintegrate into society, especially through rewarding education and employment.
NAMI also post some info on their website, including good advice about how to apply for ANY scholarship - not just focus on ones for bipolar disorder.
Now seems like a good time to remind folks that there some other scholarships out there for consumers of mental health services. For example, Eli Lily have been offering one for over 10 years. The goal of the Lilly Reintegration Scholarship is to help people with conditions such as schizophrenia and bipolar get the educational and vocational skills necessary to reintegrate into society, especially through rewarding education and employment.
NAMI also post some info on their website, including good advice about how to apply for ANY scholarship - not just focus on ones for bipolar disorder.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The 2009 Bipolar Lives Scholarship
In 2008 I created a new page for my Bipolar Lives website about scholarships for people have bipolar disorder. Guess what? I couldn't find any! Well, actually I did find a couple, but not very many, and so the Bipolar Lives Scholarship was born.
To me this seemed like an important way to try and support the bipolar community. Many people with bipolar fall victim to what is called "downward drift" - a systemic pattern of under achieving, despite being gifted. I hope that by providing a cash award I can encourage people with bipolar diosorder to persist with higher education.
Another benefit is that the award encourages reflection, research and creativity. It is awarded solely on merit to the applicant who most eloquently conveys information about bipolar disorder (actually I prefer the term "manic depression") to the general public.
Some drug companies (yep - big pharma is not entirely evil) offer scholarships.
Also, the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) list some on their website. However, NAMI's main advice is to contact folks like Fastweb: Need money for college? Use FastWeb's free scholarship search to find information on more than 1.3 Million scholarships!
The first winner will be announced on July 1st 2009. The winning entry will be published here.
Also, the details of the 2010 Bipolar Lives Scholarship will be released. The good news is that the award is increasing from $500 cash in 2009 to $750 cash in 2010.
Stay tuned and check back on 7/1/09. Thanks for your support, Sarah
To me this seemed like an important way to try and support the bipolar community. Many people with bipolar fall victim to what is called "downward drift" - a systemic pattern of under achieving, despite being gifted. I hope that by providing a cash award I can encourage people with bipolar diosorder to persist with higher education.
Another benefit is that the award encourages reflection, research and creativity. It is awarded solely on merit to the applicant who most eloquently conveys information about bipolar disorder (actually I prefer the term "manic depression") to the general public.
Some drug companies (yep - big pharma is not entirely evil) offer scholarships.
Also, the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) list some on their website. However, NAMI's main advice is to contact folks like Fastweb: Need money for college? Use FastWeb's free scholarship search to find information on more than 1.3 Million scholarships!
The first winner will be announced on July 1st 2009. The winning entry will be published here.
Also, the details of the 2010 Bipolar Lives Scholarship will be released. The good news is that the award is increasing from $500 cash in 2009 to $750 cash in 2010.
Stay tuned and check back on 7/1/09. Thanks for your support, Sarah
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