Bipolar and Me

The Revelation of a Condition

The mind is an intricate and delicate organ of great complexity to even those among us claiming to understand or comprehend the inner workings and firing of neurotransmitters. Or perhaps they claim to understand the genetic makeup, heritage factor dealing with personality, or the “class” of personality either through birth order, or childhood experiences
.
Yet I tend to question these stated facts, for they are NOT, they are theories of the mind, theories created and most likely deeply investigated by scientist who are desperately trying to assist or find an answer to such disorders as bipolar or its various forms.

Personally I am inflicted with the condition, which I DO NOT like to call an illness, for I do not believe that it is in the class of illnesses like the common cold, or flu. Firmly I believe that it is a state of being, a form of thinking and thought process, which is merely different. The notice to details beyond the scientific or “normal” eye due to nothing at fault with them barring a mind that is either left or right brained yet not FULLY engaged per say. By that I simply mean that those of us with this condition seem to utilize even the deepest and darkest areas of the brain that is often overridden in today’s society.

With the monetary focus, the insensitivity to anything “outside the box” of their way of believing things should go and being only sensitive to those things they can label, see, touch, and “logically” explain there is no possible way for them to delve into the exceptionality of anyone who doesn’t follow suit.

The answer to most is that medication and only medication can form and mold the person into what THEY believe they should be. What a shame this fact is, and it is a fact, for where would this world, this society, this human race be without the greats that came before us as bipolars' in a very tumultuous world? How would we have dealt without the poets, the artists, the LEADERS, the creators and inventors? If we were all in the same mind and mode of thinking wouldn’t we still be back in the ages of dark, where we can’t see the tree for the forest, the grain of sand for the beach, the intricate dewdrop for the rain?

As a past teacher, for 10 ½ years of science and health, I was FULLY aware of those kids touched with creativity. The ones that placed drawings up the margins of their paper that got them in trouble in other classrooms (much to my chagrin after I found out) and was praised by me as creative and unique. The ones that danced to a different drummer on their answers or their essays offering insight far beyond their years and far deeper than they would ever want another child knowing they went into the mind and heart. The ones that would bring me creations they made from natural objects and things found in nature that few would see as beauty. The ones that others shunned, that other teachers took as rebellious or uninterested in learning, or were in endless trouble day after day in their classrooms due to expressions unique or not following the planned outline they had created. The ones that came to me day after day for understanding, to share, to just vent or express themselves to, often in tears from being tied to the whipping post in various classes and various “cliché’s” of children. They simply did not fit in to the box; they didn’t form to the mold enough.


And now I find myself so in tune with this fact that it often bothers me that I conformed without a second thought. For there is no doubt, I knew at the time that I too was bipolar or touched with something rather different from those around me. For the environment could literally affect my mood and mental stability, the lights were often too bright or too harsh, the noises as if a sonic boom or grating on my actual nerves when hearing another teacher reprimand a child for something not due to bad behavior. I knew that I saw people, yes, actual people about that others had no clue or observation of by gauging their reaction, that I heard voices on a daily basis, that I too had to create either through unique lesson plans and hands on activities or through my own writing, art, or personal at home activities. I knew these things and yet tried to contort to the mold…, which inevitably led to a breakdown upon the bathroom floor. I knew that my MD had told me for almost 10 years that I needed psychiatric help yet I refused to listen, I refused to believe, I simply and matter of fact felt that EVERYONE else was different, that something was MISSING from them. Honestly I cannot say that I don’t feel that way now.

Bipolarism is not a condition to be feared. I have found through years of fighting it and then realizing that the medications and the therapy and the expression through art and creativity, improvisation and noticing intricate details; is NOT a plague. But instead I believe that it is a form of thinking, a form of neuron transmission if you will simply wired differently, simply pulling from the FIRST developed part of our brain and transmitting information from deep within our souls and hearts.

As we know the brain transmits far less neurotransmissions to the heart than the heart does to the brain, therefore how can one call bipolar a curse or a default, when the heart is what is speaking?? Isn’t that what we are suppose to do, be true to our heart and to nature that has been provided for us for a reason that we seem to have forgotten along the path to industrialization to seeking money and goods and “things” that will do nothing but rust, rot and corrode away?

Bipolars’ seem to know the most inner workings of their mind. We know the signals our body is giving us from internally, as deep as it can go. Why is that considered an oddity? Simply because the world has changed into a world of now, me, and what can I get out of this and did you see what they did or were wearing….not the help thy neighbor of days gone by, not the lend you a hand sentimentality when a hand shake meant something, not the creative period when one felt free (thank goodness) to express themselves through creations like Faulkner, Dickinson, Churchill, and oh so many more there is no need to digress on the infamous ones. If one really wants to realize how many surrounded them throughout their lives they will research just how many famous bipolars really walked among them and most likely they admired!


For out here among you are those wearing a mask. And yes we feel we MUST wear a mask. Should you not understand why; rent a movie that involves any kind of crime, read your history on how mental patients with bp were treated right here in the USA and abroad just a few short 50 years ago, look up chat rooms where bps share their experiences of how they have been treated by the masses or media. A stamp of approval is not upon our foreheads NOR do we want one. A magic pill does not exist NOR do we want one. Yes our suicide rate is higher than most DOCUMENTED that is, but what do you suppose the reason for that is?? Could it be society, labeling, stigmatism, osterization, or judgment?? I say cast the first stone, thy with clean hands.

Being diagnosed bipolar has finally let me be who I am without the mask, until I go outside the doors of my safe domain that is. Living in a small town it is “taboo” to have anything that deals with the mind as a diagnosis or a question of sanity. So I wear the mask, although it is heavy, although it weighs upon my body, heart and soul, I do it to satisfy those I come across. If I am not ashamed you ask, why wear it?
To ease the minds of those I come across is the main reason, you see we are utterly and completely aware of our effect on others, we desire …no make that NEED an environment to feel we can be ourselves, we pick up on the reaction of others no matter how hard they try to hide it…call it a sixth sense if you will, call it delusional thinking, or whatever label one would like to put on it. I personally call it blessed. I am blessed with something that yes it will need treatment and I will be on medication the rest of my life, it is NOT curable, and it will be with me always, and yes it will make me a leper among society, yet I do not care about society.

My internal workings are different and MY GOD doesn’t make mistakes, I was meant to follow this path. Be it to create or to offer a different point of view to those I come in contact with. To capture things through my coping skills of writing, drawing, journaling, poetry, photography, beekeeping, or whatever forms it may take; to capture the things that others just don’t see. Such things as the tenderly twisting grapevine tendrils around a branch, the suffocating poison oak that winds its way around the tree ever so dainty with its beautiful leaves, the intricate grains of soil and rock beneath our feet that make up the ground upon which we walk.
These are the things I speak of, the sunset sizzling down the hillside, the moon arising and reflecting that ever present light that we can’t see but know is there. The visions I have that used to scare me, I now realize are visual, auditory, olfactory and sensory hallucinations….but ARE THEY?
Again, another label MAN has created for the things I KNOW I see, the voices that I KNOW I hear beside me, the intricate and delicate touches I feel, the smells that come to me from nowhere, the skin sensations where a hug feels like a punch and the almost instant sense of a persons internal motives and vibrations that they give off.

Call me crazy, call me touched, call me out of whack, or out of sync with this world, I personally consider that a compliment, for have you looked around you lately, NO I mean really looked?? Why would I want to be disjointed into such a form? Bipolarism has touched my life for sure, not in a positive way at first due to again the media of the movie I watched when younger (although I heard the voices then too and just knew this movie was my fate although thank goodness it hasn’t been but it WAS the reason I avoided the psychiatric evaluation I so needed years earlier), One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The title alone should describe what it did to my psyche and the reason I quickly began to form the mask at such a young age, although over the years I had to change its size as I grew, now full grown I have it handy but have begun to realize that with or without it I am no less a person, deserve no less respect, have no less right not to be proud of myself for my endurance and creations and most importantly a child of GOD than the next individual!!
I will follow that narrow path, duck or hurdle the obstacles in my way, and at the end of the day I’ll thank the LORD above for getting me through and offering me an opportunity to tap into that gold mine of uniqueness and creativity that he has provided.
ctrygirl 08