I have bipolar 2 and major depressive disorder. And while that may be obvious to most... I have been in denial about it for years. Never really accepting that I had an actual illness.
I have always thought of my depression as some form of personal weakness and the occasional mild mania as me doing my best. When I admitted having these issues it was just lip service. I admitted to these diagnoses with no more thought than telling someone my blood type. I had zero respect for how sick I was. In fact I didn't think of myself as sick just weak. I often berated myself for my lapses into depression. I lacked drive or intestinal fortitude or whatever it is that makes people hugely successful. I was a loser. Why was I so lazy, why couldn't I just snap out of it. And then the mania would save me. I would right the wrongs of my depressed loser self and come galumphing back.
And the Pendulum swung back and forth. Often keeping me just out of the running...close to success but never really achieving it. But I could see it. I understood. A psychological Flowers for Algernon where I watch myself go up and down every year. I could stay on the upswing just long enough to achieve some small thing then crash back down and tear it all apart. Feeling all the while that it was my fault and I was in complete control of all the outcomes.
Truth be told until recently I was up more than I was down. Just enough in the black to maintain mediocrity... but with the occasional flash of brilliance so I can feel shame for wasting my potential.
The cycle is getting shorter. The highs are not higher but the lows are much lower. Sometimes it's debilitating I can't get out of bed I can barely leave the house... sleep eat repeat. Never too sad to eat it seems can't ever catch a break.
But even when I'm depressed my mind still works so I try to steer into the skid. Make excuses for my lack of performance...my lack of anything resembling participation. I call in sick and I think I'm lying. Im not sick I'm a worthless piece of shit. I made excuses for my depressed self like the wife of an alcoholic makes excuses for the drunk hubby falling down at a party.
I am full of shame.
Just recently I fell into that trough of pain, suffering and despair... It took me nearly two weeks to acknowledge it as mental illness. And even then it felt like a lie, like a scam. I beat myself up for not wanting to go to meetings for skipping group for not doing chores around the house I was just bad and lazy which again fed the furnace running red hot with self loathing.
I'm very lucky that I'm in a sober living environment with counselors and built-in accountability. There is a lot of freedom here but one can only hide out so long. I spent four days without leaving the house. I got away with that because two of those days were over the weekend. Then someone came looking for me.
My counselor saw right away I needed serious help. An ambulance was called and off I went. 7 Days inpatient to stabilize my medication.
If the cure works you probably have the disease. If I didn't think so before I know so now... I have depression. In the hospital I couldn't get out of bed the first 3 days... the last two days I was cracking jokes and writing new comedy bits. Medication was the only thing that changed.
So I guess I figured something out... I really do have bipolar 2 and depression. Real diseases that require active management. I have a chemical imbalance which is hard to self-diagnose and even harder to self treat. I can't fix the bicycle while I'm riding the bicycle.
Dealing frankly with what's referred to as a dual diagnosis is what has to happen.
Surviving my mental illness and addiction requires outside specialized help and medication. That and personal dedication to following the treatment plan.
So I talk to people, go to meetings take my medication, let others be involved in my life and fly the White Flag when it gets too bad.
And I know I've used this meme before but it's one of my favorites. Its bad to forget your medicine when you got a condition.
