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.

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.

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.