Four Years Diagnosed
Reflecting on my four-year-old bipolar 1 diagnosis, what has happened, and what I've learned.
On Earth Day of 2020, at what we remember as the start of a global pandemic, I walked out of work early. I hadn’t told anyone, and my supervisor saw me go. A few days later, I answered his questions honestly, and he shared his own mental health struggles. No, struggle is not a bad word to use about my own diagnosis — I’m still unlearning that “rule” given by a previous boss.
On Earth Day of 2020, April 22, I sat in my parked car and battled the sun beams in my eyes. I had given myself a handful of minutes to settle into the hot seat (literally and figuratively). I didn’t answer the phone call on the first ring, probably not the second one either.
On Earth Day of 2020, a psychiatrist spent one hour on the phone with me. She sat in her office. I sat in my car. And she diagnosed me with bipolar disorder.
In the last four years, I have been hospitalized once. I have taken one genetic test to better assist my provider with medication choices, only after I’d tried at least 15 of them. I have watched friends and family leave; it’s understandable and I still don’t respect it. I have left a job when, after using all of my PTO and then taking unpaid leave, I found out that the text of their short-term disability policy states it wouldn’t be approved for anyone who was suicidal. That meant me. I haven’t talked about that. It is true. I still have it printed out, and I still want to fight it. With what capacity though?
I have gained perspective from a few therapists, including my current one who has been the greatest supporter and ass-kicker I’ve found. Just last week, he complimented my growth (away from perfectionism) and he challenged me in more ways than one, none of which I will share here because I’m not ready for more people to push me. I’m just being honest!
I have connected with so many other folks with mood disorders (hello internet and hospital besties!). In doing so, I have also been a member of the DBSA Young Adult Council. One of my pieces has been published, and I am working on a collaborative piece for publication soon.
I have been a sounding board for friends when their family or friend has been diagnosed, hospitalized, or a runaway. Because yes, I’ve done all three.
The past four years have also sent me into research rabbit holes. How likely is it that I will die by suicide compared to others? Twenty times more. How likely will my romantic relationship not last long-term? Ninety-percent chance of failure. Where is bipolar on the list of leading causes for disability in the entire world? Number 6. The list goes on; the rabbit holes get deeper.
And yes, people remind of these facts often, even if not intentionally.
I am at a baseline of suicidal thoughts; I have been for a long time. For me, it looks like living in DC and waiting at a metro stop and wondering, “How quickly would I die if I fell onto the tracks?” even on my best days. It looks like asking questions about mundane safety facts that others rarely think about.
My relationship is work, and my partner puts a lot into it as do I. He is not a superhero for doing so. Interabled relationships don’t involve one “oh, poor me” person and one “I’ll save you!!” person. They involve two people who love each other, like (hopefully) every other relationship.
Have I applied for SSDI, more commonly referred to as disability? Yes, just this month. I will likely be denied, as roughly 60 percent of all initial applicants are.
And yes, this is four years of diagnosis. Those who know me — you know that a lot more has happened in four years. Travel, master’s degree graduation, riding a motorcycle for the first time, getting on a horse again since childhood, having my service dog in training for almost a year, moving (so many moves OOF), being with and loving my partner the whole time, visiting friends in different cities and states, so much more.
Because that’s life. We all have lives. We all know someone with mental illness(es), even you. We all have folks in our corners, and we all appreciate the ones who stay during the big ups and the big downs. After all…
We are who we have.