Being Bipolar

  After I was diagnosed with manic depression the first thing I did was go to the library and try to read every book I could get my hands on regarding that topic. At first I felt informed. As my disorder took hold of me and my life I felt like I knew nothing. Most of the books were outdated and very techninally written. They also made the disorder seem managable. Soon I was to find out how misinformed I was.
  My face to face encounter began after a failed suicide attempt. After years of being treated for just depression I was told I not only suffered from depression,  but manic depression. The encounter was extremely clinical and little if no explanation was given to as to what was happening to me or what to expect other than a medication change and a week long inpatient psychiatric stay.
  So I started taking my new"pills" and enduring my stay. The only thing worse than a hospital stay is a psychiatric hospital stay. My fellow inpatients suffered from many disorders, some deeply troubled. On top of that some were also homeless, drug abusers, or patients who refused to comply with doctor's orders while not in the hospital. Smoking seems to be habit enjoyed by a lot of mentally ill people. I my self could afford the luxury of cigarettes and soon became the "best friend" of those who did not have any. I am generous but I am not rich. Most of these people who had no cigarettes were homeless. These people tended to be dirty and seedy with whom I did not wish to garner favor with. I let my husband know of my plight and he replied by bringing a bag of tocacco and some rolling papers. But one guy, an amputee, still sought me out. He was an endless conversationalist but for the first few days he was so high on something he made no sense. Once he straightened out he turned out to be very intelligent. But my God he stunk to high heaven! He too was homeless, and had no other clothes wear. And because he was missing a leg he couldn't take a shower Finally I told him of his aroma  The next day he was squeaky clean from taking a bath and wearing a pair of hospital scrubs.
  The doctors put me on lithium. They never told me of any side effects except that I would need to have my blood checked regularly. After one hellish week I was released.
  I started noting lithium's side effects a week or two later. My husband mentioned that my hands shook. Soon I started to gain a lot of weight. Mostly I just sat on the couch in a drug induced stupor.
  When I went for my first check up with a new doctor he noticed that not only did my hands shake but so did my head. He said my lithium levels were probably  toxic and took me off it. In it's place he put me five new medications, one of which he said would make me lose weight. What woman doesn't want to hear those words?
  So I began my new treatment. Within two months I lost seveny pounds. A bit much but the tremors were gone.  Also gone were my emotions. I felt no happiness,no joy, just flat like old soda pop. I expressed this to my husband but he was just glad I wasn't crying and didn't suffer from tremors. As each day went by I felt like I had no soul. I sought out the bible for comfort to no avail. I started having suicidal thoughts. Death seemed much better than the hollow emtionless being I was.I suffered through this inner turmoil for two years praying for a change. One day it finally came.
  My doctor was old and stopped treating patients forcing me to go back to my old psychiatrist. He was a kind caring doctor. On my first visit he looked at my medication list and said I was over medicated. Some medications he took away, others he reduced the dosage.
  My world took a drastic change after that. After a few weeks I felt my life force coursing through my body. I felt alive again! But this would come at a price.
  I started having manic episodes. When a person is manic it's like being on the best drug in the world. Your body seems to have an endless source of energy. I would feel electric. I put this energy to good use and started cleaning houses for extra money. But with manic highs a depression usually follows. This made it hard to keep a regular work shedule, but I managed. During my lows I slept a lot, had bad hygiene, and avoided people.
  Mainic highs come at a price. I would become obsessive about things. Bipolar people are known  to be impulsive, especially with money. I was no exception. I soon lost acces to our checking and savings accounts along with losing my credit cards. I got to the point where I was pawning my jewelry. I even pawned my wedding rings! Due to that I lost my husband's trust and am still trying to earn it back. Social security won't even issue my disability checks in my name. I have since learned how to use my so called powers for good and not  evil. I can sit and read two or three books at once or sit at my computer for endless hours. I know I act differently when I am manic and I know my husband doesn't like me then, so I try remain as normal as I can.
  For the  first two years after I was diagnosed I was very angry. My first two courses of treatment were awful. Being bipolar left me unable to earn my own money and forced me onto disabililty. My doctor is trying to adjust my medications so my mood swings aren't so abrupt and life altering. My hope is to be able to do volunteer work. For a long time I suffered from a severe sense of worthlessness.
  I have now come to terms with my disease. I have found inner peace. I have learned that life isn't filled with huge joyous events but special little moments that many people seem to miss. I know my husband loves me, especially after enduring all the stress I have put him through. I don't seek material wealth, sentimental things bring me more happiness. I know that life is not black and white and to not judge  people by the way they look. I see inner beauty in most people that probably goes unoticed. I care that other people suffer and wish I could help them all. I have suffered many heartaches in my life but they have only made me stronger and wiser. I no longer feel cursed but blessed. I am thankful for all the readers and reviews at writing,com who give the courage to put my thoughts into printed words. P.S. I don't think I'm afraid of Hell because I think I've already been there! Peaceout