A few posts back I posted a silly little test in my blog about whether or not you’re Bipolar. Though I’m pleased to see it’s gotten some light-hearted responses, a combination of some of the responses and a few emails I got, made me realize that not everyone knows exactly what Bipolar Disorder is.
First I need to point out that Bipolar people are in no way abnormal in their ability to function properly in society. We can manage ourselves just fine, but in many cases it takes us a little more effort on our own parts. Chances are if you yourself are not suffering from Bipolar, someone you know or love is; whether they know it or not. For this reason alone, it’s good to understand this illness.
The cause of Bipolar Disorder is still widely unknown, though biological evidence proves that people who suffer this disorder, are lacking a neurotransmitter in their brain called
Serotonin. Serotonin is responsible for regulation of mood, sleep, sexuality, and appetite. There are cases where Bipolar is believed to be hereditary and there are cases where it’s purely induced by personal social factors. There is no history of Bipolar Disorder in my family.
I was 17 or 18 when I was diagnosed with as Bipolar in the American Hospital in Dubai. I was diagnosed through the least suspected person; a General Doctor I went to see for a fever I had been suffering for two consecutive days. I remember waking up the day prior; literally hearing a voice in my dream that was so loud it actually woke me. Clearly, this male voice
commanded me, “Your life is about to change.”
It freaked me out. I was in the midst of
the RAK cases I’ve mentioned prior, my parents were traveling, and I had spent the months prior slowly isolating myself from anyone, everyone and everything that wasn’t work related. I was broken hearted, as I’d lost the first love of my life in the months before. I had moved out of my parent’s house and I lived alone. Prior to this isolation, my phone would ring non-stop with invitations, my house was always full and I had a healthy, fun-loving social circle around me. During the months I spent ignoring calls and brushing off friends, I didn’t even realize that I was secluding myself from the world. I’d go to work, then strait home where I’d clean then watch TV or attempt to sleep until the next day. More often that not, I'd find I hadn't slept at all by the time my alarm went off the next day.
The voice stuck so deep in my mind I couldn’t help but believe it. Wondering what could possibly make my life change rapidly, I started to think the only possible outcome would be my parent’s sudden death. I literally started freaking out. I didn’t know what my parent’s flight-number or even airline was, but I started frantically calling all of them, to try and get information on whether or not their flight had crashed. I then called the Canadian Embassy and asked them for help finding them. I was completely paranoid & unstable. The paranoia hardly had a chance to fade when I started smelling fire as if my apartment-building was burning. I searched for a source; I looked out the window and doors and I couldn’t find a thing. I had lost my mind, and I realized it. Finally, I sat and placed my head in my hands and started to cry my eyes out. It was only then, that I realized my head was burning up.
Satisfied with the belief that a fever can cause all sorts of illusions and knowing that being physically ill adds to emotional turmoil (that I was aware I was suffering thanks to the cases and perpetual threat on my life), I was confident enough that nothing had happened to my parents and that nothing was on fire, for me to take a shower and head out to work. I was in my office for about two hours before the fever became unbearable, and I was questioning all my colleagues whether or not they smelled fire too, before I made my way out to the American hospital for a check up. The first doctor I saw was a man, and he was unable to help me. When I refused to change into a hospital gown so he could physically check me, he wasn’t pleased. To this day, I feel this was inappropriate of him in the first place, as I’d been to that section multiple times and never once had I been asked to remove all my clothing and put on a gown for a check up. He told me I had nothing more than a slight fever and prescribed Panadol, before suggesting I take rest for the day.
I don’t remember how the rest of the day went now, other than, that I continually smelled fire. I do remember ending up in the very same hospital the next day, with the same complaint only to learn I wasn’t suffering any fever at all, and nothing was physically wrong with me. Of course, it was a different doctor this time.
It was then, that the Doctor started asking other, unexpected questions of me. Was I suffering any stress? Did I socialize? Had I been sleeping well? What was my family life like? Was there any history of emotional disorder in my family? She explained to me that Serotonin levels would reduce due to excessive adrenalin, thanks to stress. Eventually, my body simply stopped making Serotonin all together, thus the many reactions I was having. I remembered then, about a week prior when I was in car driving and I was so certain that there was someone following me from my RAK accusers side, with intent to kill me I almost crashed into another car, hysterically calling one of the only people I knew I could trust in the situation I was in at that time. The doctor explained to me that I was suffering a nervous breakdown. And she put me on two meds,
Buspar &
Seroxat. I was given three or four days sick leave from work, as the meds were expected to allow me to catch up on the sleep I’d lost during the months prior. I spent about 4 strait days sleeping, without realizing I hadn’t even eaten and probably made my way to the bathroom while still asleep.
When I woke up, it was like a weight had literally been lifted from my shoulders. But that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, I was walking empty. I’d switch from long periods of feeling as though my emotions were forced into a bottle with no release, times when I couldn’t shed a tear no matter how much I hurt, to raging emotions both good and bad I couldn’t contain. I’d have periods of emotional pain, unexplained that wouldn’t allow me to sleep or eat, and then period of pure bliss that allowed me to live as though I were in a dream, for just as illusive reasons.
I have spent the last 7 or 8 years dealing with my disorder. I’ve been prescribed multiple medications, with varying results. Many of which are addictive, and more detrimental than the disorder itself is. Most Bipolar people also have highly addictive personalities. Unfortunately, I’ve lost all confidence in the metal health professionals here in the UAE. From my medications being added to without any proper answers on to what I was taking in combination, to being given medications that literally made me hallucinate only for me to read that they were meant for patients with psychotic disorders and not emotional ones, to having working medications switched because the UAE had run out of the one that I needed, to being given meds that forced me to gain 4 kilos in less than a month – which can only serve to depress a girl all that more, and which I still haven’t lost, to finally over-dosing and chopping up my own arms (something I never imagined I’d do, and know I’d never have thought about were it not for the meds), I realized I needed to call the ‘psychological health professionals’ in the UAE and the meds, quits. I’ve lost all faith in this industry here and you would too. In fact, I’d like to become one because I believe a good one is needed more than anything else in this gleaming country.
Anyway, this is my personal story of Bipolar. Just about anyone who suffers this disorder will have a different story, but similar emotions. What I think the most important thing people who don’t know about Bipolar Disorder need to know, is that we feel things both good and bad at more passionate levels, and on further reaches of the emotional poles than people who don’t suffer this disorder. For these reasons, we’re overly dramatic, because to us a small pleasure that one would normally feel, becomes ecstasy and what should normally cause a regular disappointment feels like pure devastation. What you might feel through the diagnosed sickness of a loved one, we might feel as the death of that very same person would feel to you. What you might feel from a flirtatious remark from a stranger, we might feel as a marriage proposal, with champagne, carriage and all. What winning a thousand dollars might feel like to you, may feel like winning a million to us. Learning to control these emotions is the struggle of each person who suffers this. We need to learn where to draw the line between what we should be feeling and what we’re forced to feel thanks to this chemical imbalance.
I’m all for meds when it’s the initial treatment. But after a year or two, I don’t believe Bipolar people should continue to use them. For the most part, meds stopped me from feeling anything at all. They truly created a soul without a heart, and feeling that everything you knew you should be feeling was bottled up and unable to escape and knowing this perpetual feeling won’t stop until you stop taking the meds, is just as bad for me as being in perpetual emotional pain or believing you’re indestructible. You start trying to make yourself feel, though over dramatic actions, because you don’t want to feel hollow anymore. Imagine, an artist unable to paint or write because there’s simply nothing there… Like a poet who’s run out of ink, or a painter who’s brush is broken. I believe it’s healthier and better for bipolar people to learn about their disorder and learn to cope with it than to stifle everything into a pill. I'd rather have a canvas with excess paint and multiple brushes, or a pen that splotches ink all over the page than none at all.
For those of you inclined to feel pity for us, I beg you not to even go there. If anything, many of us will feel pity for you, because we’ve felt highs like no other. We’ve lived moments when we truly believe we’re indestructible, thus allowing us to take greater risks and experience greater excitements. We’re living the best dramatic film you’ve ever watched, and we know it’s there for the rest of our lives. We’ve got a lot more to smile about than you’d probably ever imagine. And for a great part of the time, we’re smiling wider than you’d assume. Just ask anyone who knows me, personally.
In the meantime, if you’d like more information on Bipolar Disorder, please take a look at these links:
General InformationFamily DoctorNIMH:Bipolar DisorderMayo ClinicTests healthyplace.com this page offers links to a number of health/psychological related tests you can take online. Of course, for accurate answers you must see a physician.