My whole life things were fine, the next day I was out of my mind. 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 great girlfriend. Why am I suddenly down all day and having these suicidal tendancies? I decided to run away from all of it. I packed my backpack with my last meaningful belongings and hit the road. I didn’t have a destination. I didn’t even have a clear thought in my head 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 in front of a train, the next minute I would laugh at myself for having such a thought.
After a few days on the road, I woke up one morning completely thrown off by my surroundings. I was cold, hungry, alone by the river. My mind felt like scrambled eggs and I decided it was time to find someone. I showed up at my cousin’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 spoke with him, the more concerned he got, and the next thing I knew my grandma was there to pick me up. After many frantic hugs and shoulder shakes, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with manic depression.
Manic depression is no joke. I’m on a ton of medicines that make me feel fuzzy and tired even though my thoughts have leveled out for the most part and I sort of feel like me again. I’m still in a band, but my band mates are always concerned about how I’m feeling 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 pills are costing them money, and they keep searching for an end all to this mess. If I forget to take my medication, I begin to go back to some dark corners in my mind and people around me get a little scared because I become unpredictable. I’ve begun going to church twice a week because I want to ask God for a solution. I wish bipolar living 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 medicine either. It’s quite ridiculous!
I just have to live one day at a time. My family and I have family time together every evening and talk about normal family things. Like how our day was. How work was. How is the band doing? Do we have a new set list 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 manic depressive. I feel like they’re scared of me. They think I could crack 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 Welsh tells me, “Living bipolar is Gods way of teaching me to overcome weakness.” So I try to be understanding and compassionate. I work real hard every day to overcome my sour 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 use my feelings about this bipolar madness to fuel me on the path to a successful life.
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