An open letter to my past… and my future:

I recently started seeking professional help for a whirlwind of emotions I cannot control. Turns out, I’m holding on to a lot of guilt about my past. The gambling, the drinking, the compulsive spending, the lying, the manic episodes… all of it. Now I’m going to make an educated guess that at some point in the last 10 years someone somewhere said, “she has to be bipolar.” Well guess what, if you were one of those people who said it, you were right… at least half right. I am not bipolar, but I have bipolar disorder. It does not define me, but it helps explain me.

I’ve always felt like bipolar became this generic term used for anyone who is moody or psychotic. Yes, moody I am and psychotic I have been… but it goes much deeper than that. Finally I have an explanation for all of the behaviors and actions I’ve committed. The thing about bipolar disorder is, you’re not just depressed all the time or crazy all the time… you have some really high highs, you feel like everything in the world is right; only for that feeling to dwindle away and to have some really low lows.

Unfortunately for me, I was diagnosed with depression several years ago and was prescribed anti-depressants. Surprise, plot twist! If you’re taking anti-depressants when you have bipolar disorder, it actually can make things worse. A lot worse. (“Treating these patients with antidepressants alone can actually increase the manic episodes and worsen the disorder.” Franco Benazzi, MD, PhD) At that point in my life (circa 2008-2012) the term “psycho-bitch” really wasn’t that far off. I ruined many occasions with my manic episodes, including my own wedding. I ruined weekend trips, girls night out, Thirsty Thursdays, Trivia Nights, holidays, birthdays… you name it, and I probably ruined it. All because my perception is so unrealistic and I can magnify any situation into being everyone has turned against me and I immediately go into defense mode. Except my defense mode isn’t normal. It includes yelling, crying, and making a scene. Probably a good reason as to why I stopped getting invited to things.

For years I was able to blame it on being drunk. Alcohol can make people do crazy things, right? Too bad alcohol just amplified my ridiculousness. Also, that warning on anti-depressants about not mixing with alcohol—I just ignored that. It’s probably there for good reason.

On another note, I always liked to give the impression we had all kinds of money, ya know, had to impress people. Which at one time, thanks to a good investment, we did. That good investment is long gone. I single-handedly spent and gambled a significant amount of money away.

Another plot twist, my bipolar disorder is accompanied by another disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD), which for years I was mislabeling as OCD (they are not the same thing). OCPD for me, is characterized by perfectionism. Things in my mind have to be perfect (my perception of perfect) or I break down. Others do not react the way I do to the Christmas ornaments being misplaced on the tree, the triple light switches not pointing the same direction, the cereal boxes not facing the same way, not having the TV volume on a multiple of 5, the seam in my socks not being on top of my foot, someone not using the proper form of there/their/they’re… Come to find out, no one reacts the way I do to these things—not to my extreme. Mom, do you now understand why dressing me as a child was such a damn ordeal? It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t do it right, you never stood a chance in hell!

So yes, when you think it’s funny to mess with me, I’m actually having a complete meltdown inside and trying to act normal on the outside. Don’t mix my big paperclips with my little paperclips, don’t turn one marker upside down while the rest are facing the other way, and for the love of all things holy don’t over skip on the DVR, Dad—you’re going to send me into a downward spiral I can’t control.

I’m learning I can’t change the way I think, it’s just the way I’m hardwired. But I can change the way I react. I have been given different challenges, which include purposely putting myself in uncomfortable, imperfect situations and not changing how I think about it, but changing how I react to it. This is still a work in progress, but so far I have survived. (Not to say there wasn’t a panic attack included.)

For years I have been embarrassed by the way I think and act. I refused to get help and wanted to appear perfect. What an unrealistic and detrimental way of thinking. I have been so critical of myself, that I have preconceived notions of how others view me (more so judge me.) So I have also been challenged to address my issues, and not hide behind a fake smile and hidden anxiety attacks. I am truly jealous of those who can hold the “I don’t give a shit” attitude. I yearn for that ability. I’ve faked that attitude before, but in reality, I do give a shit and I do let it affect me. (I just googled affect vs. effect to make sure I used the right one… this must stop!)

Will anyone think less of me if I use the wrong your? Maybe.

Should I care? No.

Am I there? No.

Can I get there? I am hopeful.

So to my future: hold on, my dear.  This is going to be a difficult ride. But maybe a little support from my family and friends is all I need. I’ll get there. One day.