One day things were fine, the next day I was crazy. 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 fantastic girlfriend. Why am I suddenly sleeping every day and having these suicidal tendancies? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my bag with my last meaningful belongings 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 off a cliff, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.
After about a week on the road, I woke up one morning completely thrown off by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone in the woods. My mind felt like jelly and I decided it was time to connect with someone. I showed up at my friend’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 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.
Living Bipolar is no joke. I’m on a ton of pills that make me feel groggy and weird even though my thoughts have mellowed 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 doing or whether or not I’m going to run away again. My parents aren’t quite sure how to deal with bipolar living either. The medication is costing them money, and they keep searching for an end all to this mess. If I don’t take my medication, I begin to go back to some bizzarre corners in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve started going to church pretty frequently because I want to ask God for a solution. 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 pills either. It’s quite ridiculous!
I just have to take 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 a freak. I think they’re scared of me. They think I could snap at any moment. And the sad thing is that I could.
Adjusting to living with bipolar disorder is a difficult thing to do after leading a semi-normal life for eighteen years. But like Father Brannigan tells me, “A life of struggle should teach compassion.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to get over my aweful 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 meaningful existence.
